
l!(Mik >Al 



fi<ks):ntki) My 



1873 



DIVING'S ALHAMBRA. 



PEOPLE'S EDITION. 



THE A L HAM B HA 



BY WASHINGTON IRVING 




PHILADE LPHIA 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 



THE ALHAMBRA 



BY 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 



ATITHOE'S aEVTSJBD BDTTION. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
1873. 






Y5^o^ 



Entered according to Act of Coneress. in the vear 1866, by 

George P. Putnam, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District 

of New York. 



few . a (ti^tnM^^^^^^ 




CONTENTS. 



\ 

Thk Journey 9 

Palace of the Alhambra 49 

Important Negotiations. — The Author succeeds 

TO THE Throne of Boabdil 67 

Inhabitants of the Alhambra .... 76 
The Hall of Ambassadors ... .82 

The Jesuits' Library 89 

Alhamar, the Founder of the Alhambra . . 91 
Yusef Abul Hagig, the Finisher of the Alhambra 100 
The Mysterious Chambers ... . 106 

Panorama from the Tower of Comabes . . 118 

The Truant • . .127 

The Balcony 132 

The Adventure of the Mason .... 140 

The Court of Lions 145 

The Abencerrages 155 

Mejientos of Boabdil 171 

Public Fetes of Granada 177 

Local Traditions 187 

The House of the Weathercock .... 191 
Legend of the Arabian Astrologer . . . 195 

Visitors to the Alhambra 221 

Relics and Genealogies 227 

The Generalife 232 

Legend of Prince Ahmed al Kamel; or the Pil- 
grim of Love 235 

A Ramble among the Hills 276 

Legend of the Moor's Legacy 288 

The Tower ^f Las Infantas .... 316 



Vi CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

Legend of thk Three Beautiful, Princesses . 318 
Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra . . 340 

The Veteran . . . • 370 

The Governor and the Notary .... 373 
Governor Manoo and the Soldier .... 382 

A Fete tn thk Alhambra 405 

Legend of the Two Discreet Statues . . . 412 
The Crusade of the Grand Master of Alcantara 436 

Spanish Romance 447 

Legend of Don Munio Sancho De Hinojosa . 451 
Poets and Poetry of Moslem Andalus . . . 460 
An Expedition in Quest of a Diploma . . 469 
The Legend of the Enchanted Soldier . . 474 
The Author's Farewell to Granada . . . 493 





PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION. 




|OUGH draughts of some of the following 
tales and essays were actually written dur- 
ing a residence in the Alhambra ; others 
were subsequently added, founded on notes 
and observations made there. Care was taken to 
maintain local coloring and verisimilitude ; so that 
the whole might present a faithful and living picture 
of that microcosm, that singular little world into 
which I had been fortuitously thrown ; and about 
which the external world had a very imperfect idea. 
It was my endeavor scrupulously to depict its half 
Spanish, half Oriental character ; its mixture of the 
heroic, the poetic, and the grotesque ; to revive the 
traces of grace and beauty fast fading from its walls ; 
to record the regal and chivalrous traditions concern- 
ing those who once trod its courts ; and the whimsical 
and superstitious legends of the motley race now 
burrowing among its ruins. 

The papers thus rougldy sketched out lay for three 
Dr four years in my portfolio, until I found myself in 
London, in 1832, on the eve of returning to the 
United States. I then endeavored to arrange them 
for the press, but the preparations for departure did 
not allow sufficient leisure. Several were thrown 
aside as incomplete ; the rest were put together some- 



Vlli PREFACE. 

what hastily and in rather a crude and chaotic mau- 
ner. 

In the present edition I have revised ana re- 
arranged the whole work, enlarged some parts, and 
added others, including the papers originally om«cted ; 
and have thus endeavored to render it more cou.plete 
and more worthy of the indulgent reception with 
wliich it has been favored 

^ L 

Sunnysidet 1851. 





THE JOi^RNEY. 




N the spring of 1829, the authoi oC this 
work, whom curiosity had brought into 
Spain, made a rambling expedition from 
Seville to Granada in company with a friend, a 
member of the Russian Embassy at Madrid. 
Accident had throws -us together from distant re- 
gions of the globe and a similarity of taste led 
us to wander together among the romantic moun- 
tains of Andalusia. vShould these pages meet his 
eye, wherever thrown by the duties of his station, 
whether mingling in the pageantry of courts, or 
meditating on the truer glories of nature, may 
they recall the scenes of our adventui-ous com- 
panionship, and with them the recollection of one, 
in whom neither time nor distance will obliterate 
the remembrance of his gentleness and worth.* 

And here, before setting forth, let me indulge 
in a fev/ previous remarks on Spanish scenery 
and Spanish travelling. Many are apt to pic- 
ture Spain to their imaginations as a soft south- 

* Note to the Revised Edition. — The Author feels at liberty 
to mention that his travelling companion was the Prince Dol- 
gorouki, at present Russian minister at the Court of Persia. 



10 THE JOURNEY. 

cm region, decked out with the hixnriant charmfe 
of vohiptuoiis Italy. On the eontraiy, tiiongh 
there are exceptions in some of the niai'itime prov 
in CCS, yet, for the greater part, it is a stern, mel 
nn<'holy country, with rugged mountains, and lon.c^ 
sweeping pUiins, destitute of trees, and indescrih- 
ably sihMit and lonesome, partaking of the savauo 
and solitary character of Africa. What adds to 
this silence and loneliness, is the absence of sing- 
ing-birds, a natural consequence of the want of 
groves and hedges. The vulture and the eagle 
are seen wheeling about the mountain-cliffs, and 
soaring over the plains, and groups of shy bus- 
tards stalk about the heaths ; but the myriads 
of smaller birds, wdiich animate the whole face of 
other countries, are met with in but few provinces 
in Spain, and in those chieHy among the orchards 
and gardens which surroinid the habitations of 
man. 

In the interior provinces the traveller occasion- 
ally traverses great tracts cultivated with grain 
as far as the eye can reach, waving at times with 
verdure, at other times naked and sunburnt, but 
he looks round in vain for the hand that has 
tilled the soil. At length he perceives some vil- 
lage on a steep hill, or rugged crag, with moul- 
dering battlements and ruined watch-tower : a 
strong-hold, in old times, against civil war, (.r 
Moorish inroad; for the custom among thepeas- 
nntry of congregating together for mutual })rotec- 
tion is still kept up in most parts of Spain, in con- 
sequence of the maraudings of roving freebooters. 
But though a great part of Spain is deficient 



THE JOURNEY. 11 

in the garniture of groves uiid forests, and tlie 
softer cluii-nis of oruiiiaeut;il cultivation, yet its 
scenery is noble in its severity antl in unison 
with tile Jittributes of its people ; and 1 think 
that I better understand the proud, hardy, frugal, 
ami abstemious Spaniard, his manly deliance 
of hardships, and contempt of effeminate indul- 
gences, since I have seen the country he inhabits. 
There is something, too, in the sternly simple 
features of the Spanish landscape, that impresses 
on the soul a feeling of sublimity. The immense 
plains of the Castiles and of La Mancha, extending 
as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from 
their very nakedness and immensity, and possess, 
in some degree, the solemn grandeur of the ocean. 
In ranging over these boundless wastes, the eye 
catches si<»:ht here and there of a stracffjlino: herd 
of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, motion- 
less as a statue, with his long slender pike taper- 
ing up like a lance into the air ; or beholds a 
long train of mules slowly moving along the 
waste like a train of camels in the desert ; or a 
single horseman, armed with blunderbuss and 
stiletto, and prowling over the plain. Thus the 
country, the habits, the very looks of the people, 
have something oi' the Arabian character. The 
general insecurity of the country is evinced in 
the universal use of weapons. The herdsman 
in the field, the shepherd in the plain, has his 
musket and his knife. The wealthy villager 
rarely \'entures to the market-town without his 
trabuco, and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a 
blunderbuss on his shoulder; and the most petty 



12 THE JOURNEY. 

journey is undertaken with the preparation of 
a warlike enterprise. 

The dangers of the road produce also a 
mode of travelling resemblhig, on a diminutive 
scale, the caravans of the East. The arrieros, or 
carriers, congregate in convoys, and set off in 
large and well-armed trains on appointed days ; 
while additional travellers swell their number, 
and contribute to their strength. In this prim- 
itive way is the commerce of the country carried 
on. The muleteer is the general medium of tratfic, 
and the legitimate traverser of the land, crossing 
the peninsula from the Pyrenees and the Asturias 
to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania de Ronda, and 
even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally 
and hardily : his alforjas of coarse cloth hold his 
scanty stock of provisions ; a leathern bottle, 
hanoiiio; at his saddle-bow, contains wine or wa- 
ter, for a supply across barren mountains and 
thirsty plains ; a mule-cloth spread upon the 
ground is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle 
his pillow. His low, but clean-limbed and sin- 
ewy form betokens strength ; his complexion is 
dark and sunburnt; his eye resolute, but quiet 
in its expression, except when kindled by sudden 
emotion ; his demeanor is frank, manly, and cour- 
teous, and he never passes you without a grave 
salutation : " Dios guarde a usted ! " " Va usted 
con Dios, Caballero ! " " God guard you ! " " God 
be with you, Cavalier ! " 

As these men have often their whole fortune 
at stake upon the burden of their mules, they 
nave their weapons at hand, slung to theii" sad- 



THE JOURNEY. 13 

dies, and ready to be snatched out for desperate 
defence ; but their united numbers render their. 
secure against petty bands of marauders, and the 
solitary bandolero, armed to tlie teeth, and mounted 
on his Andalusfan steed, hovers about them, like 
a pirate about a merchant convoy, without daring 
to assault. 

The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible 
stock of songs and ballads, with which to be- 
guile his incessant wayfaring. The airs are 
rude and simple, consisting of but few inflections. 
These he chants forth with a loud voice, and long, 
drawling cadence, seated sideways on his mule, 
who seems to listen with infinite gravity, and to 
keep time, with his paces, to the tune. The coup- 
lets thus chanted are often old traditional ro- 
mances about the Moors, or some legend of a saint, 
or some love-ditty ; or, what is still more frequen* 
some btiUad about a bold contrabandista, or hard) 
bandolero, for the smuggler and the robber are 
poetical heroes among the common people of 
Spain. Often, the song of the muleteer is com- 
posed at the instant, and relates to some local 
scene, or some incident of the journey. This 
talent of singing and improvising is frequent in 
Spain, and is said to have been inherited from the 
Moors. There is something wildly pleasing in 
listeninf!; to these ditties amon": the rude and lonely 
scenes they illustrate ; accompanied, as they arc, 
by the occasional jingle of the mule-bell. 

It has a most picturesque effect also to meet 
a train of muleteers in some mountain - pass, 
Kirst you hear the bells of the leading mules, 



J 4 THE JOCRNEY. 

breaking with their simple melody the stillness 
of the airy height ; or, perhaps, the voice of tlie 
muleteer admonishing some tardy or wandering 
animal or chanting, at the full stretch of his 
lungs, some traditionary ballad. At length you 
see the mules slowly winding along the cragged 
defile, sometimes descending precipitous clitFs, so 
as to present themselves in full relief against the 
sky, sometimes toiling up the deep arid chasms 
below you. As they approach, you descry their 
gay decorations of worsted stuffs, tassels, and sad- 
dle-cloths, while, as they pass by, the ever ready 
trabuco, slung behind the packs and saddles, gives 
a hint of the insecurity of the road. 

The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which 
we were about to penetrate, is one of the most 
mountainous regions of Spain. Vast siecras, or 
chains of mountains, destitute of shrub or tree, 
and mottled with variegated marbles and granites, 
elevate their sunburnt summits against a deep- 
blue sky ; yet in their rugged bosoms lie in- 
gulfed verdant and fertile valleys, where the 
ilesert and the garden strive for mastery, and 
the very rock is, as it were, compelled to yield 
the fig, the orange, and the citron, and to blossom 
with the myrtle and the rose. 

»In the wild passes of these mountains the sight 
of walled towns, and villages, built like eagles' 
nests among the cliffs, and surrounded by Moor- 
ish battlements, or of ruined watch-towers perched 
on lofty peaks, carries the mind back to the chiv- 
alric days of Christian and Moslem warfare, and 
to the romantic struggle for the conquest of Gra- 



THE JOURNEY. 15 

nada. In traversing these lofty sierras the trav- 
eller is often obliged to alight, and lead his hoi'se 
up and down the steep and jagged ascents and 
descents, resembling the broken steps of a stair- 
case. Sometimes the road winds along dizzy 
j)recipices, without parapet to guard him from 
the gulfs below, and tlien will plunge down steep 
isnd dark and dangerous declivities. Sometimes 
it stru<r2:les throueli ru^sr^^d barrancos, or ravines, 
worn by winter torrents, the obscure path of the 
contrabandista ; while, ever and anon, the om- 
inous cross, the monument of robbery and mur- 
der, erected on a mound of stones at some lonely 
part of the road, admonishes the traveller that 
he is among the haunts of banditti, pe'*haps at 
that very moment under the eye of some lurking 
bandolero. Sometimes, in winding through the 
narrow valleys, he is startled by a hoarse bellow- 
ing, and beholds above him on some green fold 
of the mountain a herd of fierce Andalusian bulls, 
destined for the combat of the arena. I have 
felt, if I may so express it, an ngreeable horror 
in thus contemplating, near at hand, these terrific 
animals, clothed with tremendous strength, and 
I'anging their native pastures in untamed wild- 
ness, strangers almost to the face of man : they 
know no one but the solitary herdsman who at- 
tends upon them, and even he at times dares not 
venture to approach them. The low bellowing 
of these bulls, and their menacing aspect as they 
look down from their rocky height, give additional 
wildness to the savage scenery. 

1 have been betiayi'vl unconsciously into a 



16 THE JOURNEY. 

longer disquisition than I intended on the gen- 
eral features of Spanish travelHng ; but there is 
a romance about all the recollections of the Pen- 
insula dear to the imagination. 

As our proposed route to Granada lay through 
mountainous regions, where the roads are little 
better than mule-paths, and said to be frequently 
beset by robbers, we took due travelling precau- 
tions. Forwarding the most valuable part of 
our luggage a day or two in advance by the ar- 
rieros, we retained merely clothing and necessa- 
ries for the journey and money for the expenses 
of the road ; with a little surplus of hard dollars 
by way of robber purse, to satisfy the gentlemen 
of the road should we be assailed. Unlucky is 
the too wary traveller who, having grudged this 
precaution, falls into their clutches empty-handed • 
they are apt to give him a sound ribroasting for 
cheating them out of tlieir dues. " Caballeros like 
them cannot atford to scour the roads and risk 
t!ie srallows for nothing;." 

A couple of stout steeds were provided for o.;r 
own mounting, and a third for our scanty luggage 
and the conveyance of a sturdy Biscayan lad, 
about twenty years of age, who was to be our 
guide, our groom, our valet, and at all times our 
guard. For the latter office he was provided 
with a formidable ti-abuco or carbine, with which 
he promised to defend us against rateros or sol- 
itary footpads: but as to powerful bands, like 
that of the " Sons of Ecija," he confessed they 
were quite Deyona his prowess. He made much 
vainglorious boast cxlx)i:" hi-* ^veanon at the outlet 



THE JOURXEY. 17 

of the jounney ; though, to the discredit of his 
generalship, it was suffered to hang unloaded be- 
hind his sa(hlle. 

According to our stipuhitions, the man fi'om 
whom we hired the horses was to be at the ex- 
pense of their feed and stabling on the journey^ 
as well as of the maintenance of our Biscayan 
squire, who of course was provided with funds 
for the purpose ; we took care, however, to give 
the latter a private hint, that, though we made a 
close bargain with his master, it was all in his 
favor, as, if he proved a good man and true, both 
he and the horses should live at our cost, and the 
money provided for their maintenance remain in 
his pocket. This unexpected largess, with the 
occasional present of a cigar, won his heart com- 
pl(;tely. He was, in truth, a faitliful, cheery, 
kind-hearted creature, as full of saws and prov- 
erbs as that miracle of squires, tiie renowned 
Sancho himself, whose name, by the by, we be- 
stowed upon him, and, like a true Spaniard, though 
treated by us with companionable familiarity, he 
never for a moment, in his utmost hilarity, over- 
stepped the bounds of respectful decorum. 

Such were our minor preparations for the jour- 
ney, but above all we laid in an ample stock of 
good - humor, and a genuine disposition to bo 
pleased ; determining to travel in true contraban- 
dista style ; taking things as we found them, 
rough or smooth, and mingling with all classes 
and conditions in a kind of vagabond companion- 
ship. It is the true way to travel in Spain. 
With such disposition and determination, what a 
2 



18 IHh JUUti.\Kl\ 

ccmiitiy is It for a traveller, where the most mis- 
erable imi is as full of adventure as an enchanted 
castle, and every meal is in itself an achievement ! 
Let others repine at the lack of turnpike roads 
and sumptuous hotels, and all tlie elaborate com- 
forts of a country cultivated and civilized into 
lameness and commonplace ; but give me the 
rude mountain scramble ; the roving, hap-hazai'd, 
wayfaring; the half wild, yet frank and hospi- 
table manners, which impart such a true game- 
flavor to dear old romantic Spain ! 

Tims equipped and attended, we cantered out 
of "Fair Seville city" at half-past six in the 
morning of a bright May day, in company with 
a lady and gentleman of our acquaintance, who 
rode a few miles v/ith us, in the Spanish mode 
of taking leave. Our route lay through old 
Alcala de Guadaira (Alcala on the river Aira), 
the bejiefactress of Seville, that supplies it with 
bread and water. Here live the bakers who 
lui-nish Seville with that delicious bread for 
which it is renowned ; here are fabricated those 
roscas well known by the well-merited aj)pellation 
of pan de Bios (bread of God) ; with which, by 
the way, we ordered our man, Sancho, to stock 
his alfbrjas for the journey. AVell has this benef- 
icent little city been denominated the " 0\en of 
Seville " ; well has it been called Alcala de lo8 
Tanadcros (Alcala of the bakers), for a great 
part of its inhabitants are of that h.j'.ndicraft, and 
the highway hence to Seville is consiuntly trav- 
ersed by lines of mules and donkey? hulau with 
gi'eat pannie.rs of loaves and roscas. 



77/ A- .lOURNF.Y. 19 

I have said Alcala siip})lies Seville with water 
Here are great tanks or reservoirs, of Roman 
and Moorish construction, whence water is con- 
veyed to Seville by noble aqueducts. The springs 
of Alcala are almost as much vaunted as its 
ovens ; and to the lightness, sweetness, and 
purity of its water is attributed in some measure 
the delicacy of its bread. 

Here we halted for a time, at the ruins of the 
old Moorish castle, a favorite resort for picnic 
parties from Seville, where Ave had passed many 
a pleasant hour. The walls are of great extent, 
pierced with loopholes ; enclosing a huge square 
tower or keep, with the remains of masmoras, or 
subterranean granaries. The Guadaira winds 
its stream round the hill, at the foot of these 
ruins, whimpering among reeds, rushes, and pond- 
lilies, and overhung with rhododendron, eglantine, 
yellow myrtle, and a profusion of wild flowers 
and aromatic shrubs ; while along its banks are 
groves of oranges, citrons, and pomegranates, 
among which we heard the early note of the 
uiohtino-ale. 

A picturesque bridge w^as thrown across the 
little river, at one end of which was the ancient 
[Moorish mill of the castle, defended by a tower 
of yellow stone ; a fisherman's net hung against 
the Wt'dl to dry, and hard by in the river was 
his boat ; a group of peasant women in bright- 
colored dresses, crossing the arched bridge, were 
reflected in the placid stream. Altogether it wa^ 
an admirable scene lor a landscape-painter. 

I'he old Moorish mills, so often found on se- 



30 THE JOURNEY. 

..luded streams, are characteristic objects in Span- 
ish landscape, and suggestive of the perilous 
times of old. They are of stone, and often in 
the form of towers with loopholes and battle- 
ments, capable of defence in those warlike days 
when the country on both sides of the bordi^r 
was subject to sudden inroad and hasty ravage, 
and when men had to labor with their weapons 
at hand, and some place of temporary refuge. 

Our next halting-place was at Gandul, where 
were the remains of another Moorish castle, with 
Its ruined tower, a nestling-place for storks, and 
commanding a view over a vast cainpina or fer- 
tile plain, with the mountains of Ronda in the 
distance. These castles were strong-holds to 
protect tlie plains from the talas or forays to 
which they were subject, when the fields of corn 
would be laid waste, tiie flocks and herds swept 
fj'om the vast pastures, and, together with captive 
peasantry, hurried off in long cavulgadas across 
the borders. 

At Gandul we found a tolerable posada ; the 
good folks could not tell us what time of day it 
was, the clock only struck once in the day, two 
hours after noon ; until that time it was guess- 
work. We guessed it was full time to eat ; so, 
alighting, we ordered a repast. While that was 
in preparation, we visited the palace once tiie 
residence of the Marcpiis of Gandul. All was 
gone to decay ; there were but two or thiee 
rooms habitable, and very poorly furnished. Yet 
'lere were the remains of grandeur : a terrace, 
where fair dames and gentle cavaliers may once 



rilK JOURNEY. 21 

have walked ; a fish-poiul atul ruined garden, with 
grape-vines and date-bearing pahn-trees. Here 
we were joined by a fat curate, who gathered a 
bouquet of roses, and presented it, xary galhmtly, 
to the hidy who accompanied us. 

Below the palace was the mill, with orange- 
trees and aloes in front, and a pretty stream of 
pure water. We took a seat in the shade ; and 
the millers, all leaving their work, sat down and 
smoked with us ; for the Andalusians are always 
ready for a gossip. They were waiting for the 
regular visit of the barber, who came once a 
week to put all their chins in order. He arrived 
shortly afterwards : a lad of seventeen, mounted 
on a donkey, eager to display liis new alforjas or 
saddle-bags, just bought at a fair ; pi'ice one dol- 
lar, to be paid on St. John's day (in June), by 
which time he trusted to have mown beards 
enougli to put him in funds. 

By the time the laconic clock of the castle 
had struck two we had finished oui* dinner. So, 
taking leave of our Seville I'riends, and leaving 
the millers still under the hands of the barber, 
we set off on our ride across the campina. It 
was one of those vast plains, common in Spain, 
where for miles and miles there is neither house 
nor tree. Unlucky the tj-aveller who has to trav- 
erse it, exposed as we were to heavy and I'e- 
pcated showers of rain. There is no escape nor 
shelt(T. Our only protection was our Spanish 
cloaks, which nearly covered man and horse, but 
grew heavier every mile. By the time we had 
'ived throuirh one shower we would see another 



22 THE JOURNEY. 

slowly but inevitably approaching ; fortunately in 
the interval there would be an outbreak of bright, 
warm, Andalusian sunshine, which would make 
our cloaks send up wreaths of steam, but which 
partially drie<l them before the next drenching. 

Shortly after sunset we arrived at Arahal, a 
little town among the hills. AVe found it in 
a bustle with a party of mic^uelets, who were 
patrolling the country to feri'et out robbers. The 
appearance of foreigners like ourselves was an 
unusual circumstance in an interior country town ; 
and little Spanish towns of the kind are easily 
put in a state of gossip and wonderment by such 
an occurrence. Mine host, with two or three old 
wiseacre comrades in brown cloaks, studied our 
passports in a corner of the posada, while an 
Alguazil took notes by the dim light of a lamp. 
The passports were in foreign languages and per- 
plexed them, but our Squire Sancho assisted 
them in their studies, and magnitled our impor- 
tance with the grandilo{[uence of a Spaniard. In 
the mean time the magnificent distribution of a 
few cigars had won the hearts of all around us ; 
in a little while the whole community seemed 
put in agitation to make us welcome. The cor- 
regidor himself waited upon us, and a great rush- 
bottomed arm-chair was ostentatiously bolstered 
into our room by our landlady, for the accommo- 
dation of that important personage. The com- 
mander of the patrol took supper with us : a 
lively, talking, laughing Andaluz, who had made 
a campaign in South America, and recounted his 
exploits in love and war with much pomp of 



THE JOURNEY. 23 

pf'rase, vehemence of gesticulation, and mysterious 
rolling of the eye. He told us that he liad a 
list of all the robbers in the country, and meant to 
ferret out every motiier's son of them ; he offered 
us at the same time some of his soldiers as an 
escort. " One is enough to protect you, senors ; 
the robbers know me, and know my men ; the 
gight of one is enough to spread terror through u 
Aviiole sieri-a." We thanked him for his offer, 
but assured him, in his OAvn strain, that witli the 
protection of our redoubtable squire, Sancho, we 
were not afraid of all the ladrones of Andalusia. 

While we were supping with our drawcansir 
friend, we heard the notes of a guitar, and the 
click of castanets, and presently a chorus of voices 
singing a jjopular air. In fact, mine host had 
gathered together the amateur singers and nnisi- 
cians, and the rustic belles of tiie neigliborhood, 
and, on going forth, the court-yai"d or patio of the 
inn presented a scene of true Spanish festivity. 
We took our seats witli mine host and hostess and 
the commander of the patrol, under an archway 
opening into the court ; the guitar passed from 
liand to hand, but a jovial shoemaker was the 
Orpheus of the place, lie was a pleasant-look- 
ing fellow, with huge black whiskers ; his sleeves 
were rolled up to his elbows. He touched the 
guitar with masterly skill, and sang a little amor- 
ous ditty with an expressive leer at the women, 
wltii whom he was evidently a favorite. He af- 
tcrwaids danced a fandango with a buxom Anda 
lusian damsel, to the great delight of the spec- 
tators. But none of the females present could 



24 THE JOURNEY 

compare with mine host's pretty daughter, Pepita, 
who had slipped away and made her toilette for 
the occasion, and had covered her head Avith roses ; 
and who distinguished herself in a bolero with a 
handsome young dragoon. We ordered our host 
to let wine and refreshment circulate freely among 
the company, yet, though there was a motley as- 
sembly of soldiers, nmleteers, and villagers, no 
one exceeded the bounds of sober enjoyment. 
The scene was a study for a painter : the pictu- 
resque group of dancers, the troopers in their half 
military dresses, the peasantiy wrapped in tlieir 
brown cloaks ; nor must 1 omit to mention the 
old meagre Alguazil, in a short black cloak, who 
took no notice of anvthing ooing on, but sat in 
a corner diligently writing by the dim light of a 
huge copper lamp, that nu'ght have figured in the 
days of Don Quixote. 

The following morning was bright and balmy, 
as a May morning ought to be, according to the 
poets. Leaving Arahal at seven o'clock, with all 
the po?ada at the door to cheer us off, we pursued 
our way through a fertile country, covered with 
grain and beautifully verdant ; but which in sum- 
mer, when the harvest is over and the fields 
parched and brown, must be monotonous and 
lonely ; for, as in our ride of yesterday, there 
were neither houses nor people to be seen. The 
latter all congregate in villages and strong-hokh 
among the hills, as if these fertile plains were 
Btill subject to the ravages of the Moor. 

At noon we came to where there was a group 
Df trees, beside a brook in a rich meadow. Hero 



THE JOURNEY. 25 

we alighted to make our mid-day meal. It was 
really a luxurious spot, among wild ilowers and 
aromatic herbs, with birds siugiug around us. 
Knowing the scanty larders of Spanish inns, and 
the houseless tracts Ave might have to traverse, 
we had taken care to have the altbrjas of our 
s<iuire well stocked with cold provisions, and his 
bota, or leathern bottle, which miglit hold a gallon, 
fdled to the neck with choice Vaklepenas wine.* 
As we depended more upon these for our well- 
being than even his trabuco, we exhorted him to 
be more attentive in keeping them well charged ; 
and I must do him the justice to say that his 
namesake, the trenclier - loving Sancho Fanza, 
was never a more provident purveyor. Though 
the alforjas and the bota were frequently and 
vigorously assailed throughout the journey, they 
had a wonderful power of icpletion, our vigilant 
squire sacking everything that remained from our 
repasts at the imis, to supply these junketings by 
the road-side, whicli wei-e his deh'ght. 

On the present occasion he spread quite a 
sumptuous variety of lenmants on the green- 
sward before us, graced with an excellent ham 
brought from Seville ; then, taking his seat at a 

* It may be as well to note here, that the alforjas are 
square pockets at each end of a long cloth about a foot and a 
half wide, formed by turning up its extremities. The clotb 
is then thrown over the saddle, and the pockets hang on each 
side like saddle-bags. It is an Arab invention. The bota is 
a leathern bag or bottle, of portly dimensions, with a narrow 
neck. It is also Oriental. Hence the scriptural caution, 
which perplexed me in my boyhood, not to put new wine inu» 
,ld bottles. 



26 THE JOURNEY. 

little distance, lie solaced hiniselt* with what re- 
mained in the alfoijas. A visit or two to the 
bota made him as merry and chirruping as a 
grasshopper filled with dew. On my comparing 
his contents of the alforjas to Sancho's skinnning 
of the tlesh-pots at the wedding of Canmiacho, 
I found he was well versed in the history of Don 
Quixote, but, like many of the common people 
of Spain, firmly believed it to be a true history. 

" All that happened a long time ago, seiior," 
said he, with an inquiring look. 

" A very long time," I replied. 

" I dare say more than a thousand years," — 
still lookhig dubiously. 

" I dare say not less." 

The squire was satisfied. Nothing pleased the 
simple-hearted varlet more than my comparing 
him to the renowned Sancho for devotion to the 
trencher; and he called himself by no other name 
throughout the journey. 

Our repast being finished, we spread our cloaks 
on the greensward under the tree, and took a 
luxurious siesta in the Spanish fashion. The 
clouding up of the weather, however, warned us 
to depart, and a harsh wind sprang up from the 
southeast. Towards five o'clock we arrived at 
Osuna, a town of fifteen thousand inhabitants, 
situated on the side of a hill, with a church and 
a ruhied castle. The posada was outside of the 
walls; it had a cheerless look. The evening be- 
ing cold, tiie iidiabitants were crowded round a 
brasero in a chinmey-corner ; and the hostess 
was a dry old woman, who looked like a mummy 



THE JOURNEy. 27 

Every one eyed us askatice as we entered, as 
Spaniards are apt to re.i^ard sti-angers ; a cheery, 
respectful salutation on our part, caballeroing 
them and touching our sombreros, set Spanish 
pride at ease ; and when we took our seat 
among them, lit our cigars, and passed the cigar- 
box round among them, our victory was complete. 
1 have never known a S])aniard, whatever his 
rank or condition, who would suffer himself to 
be outdone in courtesy ; and to the common 
Spaniard tlie present of a cigar (puro) is iri-esist- 
ible. Care, however, must be taken never to 
offer him a present with an air of superiority and 
condescension ; he is too much of a caballero to 
receive favors at the cost of his dignity. 

Leaving Osuna at an eai'ly hour the next 
morning, we entered the sieri-a or range of moun- 
tains. The road wound through jjicturesque 
scenery, but lonely ; and a cross here and there 
by the road -side, the sign of a murder, showed 
that we were now coming among the " robber 
haunts." This wild and inti-icate country, with 
its silent plains and valleys intei'sected by moun- 
tains, has ever been famous for banditti. It was 
here that Omar Ibn Hassan, a robber-chief among 
the Moslems, held ruthless sway in the ninth cen- 
tury, disputing dominion even with the caliphs of 
Cordova. This too was a-'ptirt of the regions i-o 
often ravaged din-ing the reign of Ferdinand and 
Isabella by Ali Atar, the old Moorish alcayde of 
lioxa, father-in-law of Boabdil, so that it was 
called Ali Atar's garden, and here " Jose JMaria," 
famous in Spanish brigand story, had his favorite 
lurking-places. 



28 THE JOURNEY. 

In the course of the day we passed through 
Fuente hi Piedra, near a little salt lake of tlie 
same name, a beautiful sheet of water, retlecling 
like a miiTor the distant mountains. We now 
came in sight of Antiquera, that old city of war- 
like reputation, lying in the lap of the great sierra 
which runs through Andalusia. A noble vega 
spread out before it, a picture of mild fertility set 
in a frame of rocky mountains. Crossing a gen- 
tle river we approached the city between hedges 
and gardens, in which nightingales were pouring 
forth their evening song. About nightfall we 
arrived at the gates. Everything in this venera- 
ble city has a decidedly Spanish stamp. It lies 
too much out of the frequented track of foreign 
travel to have its old usages trampled out. Here 
I observed old men still wearing the montero, or 
ancient hunting-cap, once common throughout 
Spain ; while the young men wore the little 
round-crowned hat, with brim turned up all round, 
like a cup turned down in its saucer ; while the 
brim was set off with little black tufts like cock- 
ades. The women, too, were all in mantillas 
and basquinas. The fashions of Paris had not 
reached Antiquera. 

Pursuing our course through a spacious street, 
we put up at the posada of San Fernando. As 
Antiquera, though a '''considerable city, is, as I 
observed, somewhat out of the track of travel. 
I had anticipated bad quarters and poor fare at 
the inn. I was agreeably disappointed, there- 
fore, by a supper-table amply supplied, and what 
were still moie acceptable, good clean rooms and 



THE JOURNEY. 29 

comfortable beds. Our man Sancho felt him- 
self as well off* as his namesake when he had 
tlie run of the duke's kitchen, and let nie know, 
as I retired for the night, that it had been a prcud 
time for tlie alforjas. 

Early in the mornino: (May 4th) I strolled tc 
the ruins of the old Moorisli castle, which itself 
had been reared on the ruins of a Roman fortress. 
Here, taking my seat on the remains of a crum- 
bling tower, I enjoyed a grand and varied landscape, 
beautiful ii^ itself, and full of storied and romantic 
associations ; for I was now in the very iieart of 
the country fniious for tlie chivalrous contests 
between Moor and Christian. Below me, in its 
lap of hills, lay the old wan-ior city so often men- 
tioned in chronicle and ballad. Out of yon gate 
and down yon hill paraded the band of Spanish 
cavaliers, of highest rank and bravest bearing, to 
make that foray during the war and conquest of 
Granada, which ended in the lamentable massa- 
cre among the mountains of Malaga, and laid all 
Andalusia in moui'ning. Beyond spread out the 
vega, covered with gardens and orchards and fields 
of grain and enainelled meadows, inferior only to 
the fmious vega of Granada. To the right the 
Rock of the Lovers stretched like a cragged 
promontory into the plain, whence the daughter 
of the Moorish alcayde and her lover, when 
closely pursued, threw themselves in despair. 

The matin peal from church and convent bo- 
low me rang sweetly in the morning air, as I 
descended. The market-place was beginning to 
dirong with the populace, who traffic in the abun- 



30 THE JOURNEY. 

tlant proclnce of the vega ; for this is the mart 
of an agricultural region. In the market-place 
were abundance of freshly plucked roses for sale , 
tor not a dame or damsel of Andalusia thinks 
\h'V gala dress complete without a rose shining 
like a jjem amonsf her raven tresses. 

On returning to the iim I found our man 
Sancho in high gossip with the landlord and two 
or tin-ee of his hangers-on. He had just been 
telling some marvellous story about Seville, which 
mine host seemed piqued to match with one 
equally marvellous about Antiquera. There was 
once a fountain, he said, in one of the public 
squares called // fuente del toro, (the fountain of 
the bull,) because the water gushed from the mouth 
of a bull's head, carved of stone. Underneath 
the head was inscribed, — 

En tVente del toro 
Se halleii tesoro. 

(In front of the bull there is treasure.) Many 
digged in front of the fountain, but lost their la- 
bor and found no money. At last one knowing 
fellow construed the motto a different way. It is 
in the forehead (frente) of the bull that the treas- 
ure is to be found, said he to himself, and I am 
the man to find it. Accordingly he came, late at 
night, with a mallet, and knocked the head to 
pieces ; and what do you think he found ? 

" Plenty of gold and diamonds ! " cried Sancho, 
eagerly. 

" He found nothing," rejoined mine host, dryly; 
** aud he ruined the fountain." 



THE JOURNEY. 31 

Here a great laugh was set np by the land- 
ford's liaiigers-on ; who considered Sancho com- 
pletely taken in by wliat I presume was one of 
mine host's standing jokes. 

Jx'aving Antiqnera at eight o'clock, we had a 
(k'lightfnl ride along the little river, and by gar- 
liens and orchards fi'agrant with the odors of 
spring and vocal with the nightingale. Our road 
passed round the- Rock of the Lovers (el penon 
de los enamorados), which rose in a precipice 
above us. In the course of the morning we 
passed through Archidona, situated in the breast 
of a hign hill, with a three-pointed mountain tow- 
ering above it, and the ruins of a Moorish for- 
tress. It was a great toil to ascend a steep stony 
street leading up iiito the city, although it bore 
the encouraging name of Calle Real del Llano 
(the royal street of the ]>lain), but it was still a 
greater toil to descend from this mountain city on 
the other side. 

At no(jn we halted in sight of Archidona, hi a 
pleasant little meadow among hills covered with 
olive-ti'ces. Our cloaks were spread on the grass, 
under an elm by the side of a bubbling rivulet ; 
our horses wei-e tethered where they might crop 
I he herbage, and Sancho was told to pro(bice his 
alibrjas. He had been unusually silent this moin- 
ing ever since the laugh raised at his expense, 
but now his countenance brightened, and he pro- 
duced his alfbrjas with an air of ti'iumph. Tlu^y 
cont:-uned the contributions of four days' joui'ney- 
ing, but htid been si|!:nally enriched by the forag- 
ing of the previous evening in the plenteous inn at 



32 • THE JOURAET. 

Antic] iiora ; and this seemed to furnish him with 
a seL-otF to the banter of mine host. 

Ell frente del toro 
Se hallen tesoro 

would he exdaim, with a chuckhng laugh, as he 
drew forth the heterogeneous contents one by one, 
m a series which seemed to have no end. First 
came forth a shoulder of roasted kid, very littlu 
the worse for wear ; then an entire partridge ; 
then a great morsel of salted codfish wrapped 
in paper ; then the residue of a ham ; then the 
half of a pullet, together with several rolls of 
bread, and a rabble rout of oranges, figs, raisins, 
and walnuts. His bota also liad been recruited 
with some excellent wine of Malaga. At every 
fresh apparition fi-om his larder, he would enjoy 
our ludicrous surprise, throwing lilinself back on 
the grass, shouting with laughter, and exclaiming, 
" Frente del toro ! — frente del toro ! Ah, sen- 
ors, they thought Sancho a simjueton at Anti- 
quera ; but Sancho knew where to find the te- 
soro.'' 

AVhile we were diverting ourselves with his 
simple drollery, a solitary beggar approached, 
who had almost the look of a pilgrim. He Lad 
a venerable gr.iy beard, and was evidently very 
old, supporting himself on a staff, yet age had 
not bowed him down ; he was tall and erect, and 
had the wreck of a fine form. He wore a round 
Andalusian hat, a sheep-skin jacket, and leathern 
breeches, gaiters, and sandal:^ His dress, though 
old and patched, w^is decent, his demeanor manly. 



THE JOURNEY. 33 

and he addressed us with the grave courtesy that 
is to be remarked in the lowest. Spaniard. We 
were in a favorable mood for such a visitor ; and 
in a freak of capricious charity gave him some 
silver, a loaf of fine wheaten bread, and & goblet 
of our choice wine of Malaga. He received 
them thankfully, but without any grovelling trib- 
ute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held it 
up to the light, with a slight beam of surprise 
in his eye ; then quaffing it off at a draught, " It 
is many years," said he, " since I have tasted such 
wine. It is a cordial to an old man's heart." 
Then, looking at the beautiful wheaten loaf, " hen- 
dito sea tal jmn ! " " blessed be such bread ! " So 
saying, he put it in his wallet. We urged him 
to eat it on the spot. " No, seiiors," replied he, 
" the wine I had either to drink or leave ; but the 
bread I may take home to share with my family." 

Our man Sancho sought our eye, and reading 
permission there, gave the old man some of the 
ample fragments of our repast, on condition, how- 
ever, that he should sit down and make a meal. 

He accordingly took his seat at some little dis- 
tance from us, and began to eat slowly, and with 
a sobriety and decorum that would have become 
a hidalgo. There M^as altogether a measured 
manner and a quiet self-possession about the old 
man, that made me think that he had seen better 
days : his language too, though simple, had occa- 
sionally something picturesque and almost poeti- 
cal in the phraseology. I set him down for some 
broken-down cavalier. I was mistaken ; it was 
nothing but the innate courtesy of a Spaniard, 
3 



34 TIIK JOURNEY. 

and the poetical turn of thought and language 
often to be found in the lowest classes of this 
clear-witted people. For fifty years, he told us, 
he had been a shepherd, but now he was out of 
employ and destitute. " AVlien T was a young 
man," said he, "nothing could harm or trouble 
nie ; I was always well, always gay ; but now 
1 am seventy-nine years of age, and a beggar, 
and my heart begins to fail me." 

Still he Wfis not a reguhu' mendicant : it was 
not until recently that want had driven hiui to 
this degradation ; and he gave a touching picture 
of the struggle between hunger and pi*ide, when 
abject destitution fii"st came upon him. He was 
returning from Malaga without money; he had 
not tasted tbod for some time, and was crossing 
one of the great plains of Spain, where there 
were but few habitations. When almost dead 
with hunger, lie applied at the door of a venta or 
country inn. " Perdon usted por Dios hermano ! " 
(Excuse us, brother, for God's sake !) was tlie 
reply — the usual mode in Spain of refusing a 
beggar. " I turned away," said he, " with shame 
greater than my hunger, for my heart was yet too 
proud. I came to a river with high banks, and 
deep, rapid current, and felt tempted to throw 
myself in ; ' What should such an old, worthless, 
v/retched man as 1 live for ? ' But when I waa 
m\ the bruik of the current, I thought on tlie 
blessed Virgin, and turned away. I travelled on 
until I saw a country-seat at a little distance from 
the road, and entered the outer gate of the court- 
yard. The door was shut, but there were tvvo 



THE JOURNEY. 35 

young seiioras at a window. I approached and 
begged ; — ' Per don usted por Dios hermano ! * — 
and the window closed. I crept out of the court- 
yard, but hunger overcame me, and my heart gave 
way : I thought my hour at hand, so I hiid myself 
down at the gate, commended myself to the Holy 
Virgin, and covered my head to die. In a little 
while afterwards the master of the house came 
home : seeing me lying at his gate, he uncovered 
my head, had pity on my gray hairs, took me into 
his house, and gave me food. So, sefiors, you 
see that one should always put confidence in the 
protection of the Virgin." 

The ohl man was on his way to his native place, 
Archidona, which was in full view on its steep 
and rugged mountain. He pointed to the ruins 
of its castle. "■ That castle," lie said, " was inhab- 
ited by a Moorish king at the time of the wars 
of Granada. Queen Isabella invaded it with a 
great army ; but the king looked down from his 
castle among the clouds, and laughed her to 
scorn ! Upon this the Virgin appeared to the 
queen, and guided her and her army up a mys- 
terious path in the mountains, which had never 
before been known. When the Moor saw her 
coming, he was astonished, and springing with 
his horse from a precipice, was dashed to pieces ! 
The marks of his horse's hoofs," said the old man, 
'' are to be seen in the margin of the rock to this 
day. And see, sefiors, yonder is the road by 
which the queen and her army mounted : you 
see it like a ribbon up the mountain's side ; but 
the miracle is, that, though it can be seen at a 
distance, when you come near it disappears ! " 



36 THE JOURNEr. 

The ideal road to which he pointed was nn« 
doubtedly a sandy ravine of the mountain, whiclj 
looked narrow and defined at a distance, but be^* 
came broad and indistinct on an approach. 

As the old man's heart warmed with wine and 
wassail, he went on to tell us a story of" the buried 
treasure left under the castle by tlie Moorish 
king. His own house was next to the founda- 
tions of the castle. The curate and notary 
dreamed three times of the treasure, and went to 
work at the place pointed out in their dreams. 
His own son-in-law lieard the sound of their pick- 
axes and spades at night. What they found, no- 
body knows ; they became suddenly rich, but 
kept their own secret. Thus tlie old man had 
once been next door to fortune, but was doomed 
never to get under the same roof. 

I have remarked that the stories of treasure 
buried by the Moors, so popular throughout Spain, 
are most current among the poorest people. 
Kind nature consoles with shadows tor the lack 
of substantial. The thirsty man dreams of 
fountains and running streams ; the hungry man 
of banquets ; and the poor man of heaps of hid- 
den gold : nothing certainly is more opulent than 
the imagination of a beggar. 

Our afternoon's ride took us through a steep 
Knd rugged defile of the mountains, called Puerto 
del Rey, the Pass of the King ; being one of the 
great passes into the territories of Granada, and 
the one by which king Ferdinand conducted his 
army. Towards sunset the road, winding round 
a hill, brought us in sight of the famous little 



THE JOURNEY. 37 

frontier city of Loxa, which repulsed Ferdinand 
from its walls. Its Arabic name implies guardian 
and such it was to the vega of Granada, being 
one of its advanced guards. It was the strong- 
hold of that fiery veteran, old Aii Atar, father- 
in-law of Boabdil ; and here it was that the 
latter collected his troops, and sallied forth on that 
disastrous foray which ended in the death of the 
old alcayde and his own captivity. From its 
commanding position at the gate, as it were, of 
this mountain-pass, Loxa has not unaptly been 
termed the key of Granada. It is wildly pictu- 
resque ; built along tlie face of an arid mountain. 
The ruins of a Moorish alcazar or citadel crowu 
a rocky mound wliich rises out of the centre of 
the town. The river Xenil washes its base, 
winding among rocks, and groves, and gardens, 
and meadows, and crossed by a Moorish bridge. 
Above the city all is savage and sterile, below is 
the richest vegetation and the freshest verdure. 
A similar contrast is presented by the river ; 
above the bridge it is placid and grassy, reflecting 
groves and gardens ; below it is rapid, noisy, and 
tumultuous. The Sierra Nevada, the royal 
mountains of Granada, crowned with perpetual 
snow, form the distant boundary to this varied 
^ndscape, one of the most characteristic of ro- 
mantic vSpain. 

Alighting at the entrance of the city, we gave 
^ur horses to Sancho to lead them to the inn, 
wiiile we strolled about to enjoy the singular 
beauty of the environs. As we crossed the 
bridge to a fine alameda, or public walk, the 



38 THE JOURNEY. 

bells tolled the hour of orison. At the sound 
the wayfarers, whether on business or pleasure, 
paused, took off their hats, crossed themselves, 
and repeated their evening prayer : a pious cus- 
tom still rigidly observed in retired parts of 
Spain. Altogether it was a solemn and beautiful 
evening scene, and we wandered on as the even- 
ing gradually closed, and the new moon began to 
glitter between the high elms of the alameda. 
We were roused from this quiet state of enjoy- 
ment by the voice of our trusty squire hailing us 
from a distance. He came up to us, out of 
breath. " Ah, seiiores," cried he, " el pobre San- 
cho no es nada sin Don Quixote." (Ah, sefiors, 
poor Sancho is nothing without Don Quixote.) 
He had been alarmed at our not coming to the 
inn ; Loxa was such a wild mountain place, full 
of contrabandistas, enchanters, and infiernos ; he 
did not well know what might have happened, 
and set out to seek us, inquiring after us of every 
person he met, until he traced us across the 
bridge, and, to his great joy, caught sight of us 
strolling in the alameda. 

The inn to which he conducted us was called 
the Corona, or Crown, and we found it quite in 
keeping with the character of the place, the in- 
habitants of which seem still to retain the bold, 
fiery spirit of the olden time. The hostess 
was a young and handsome Andalusian widow, 
whose trim basquina of black silk, fringed with 
bugles, set off the play of a graceful form and 
round pliant limbs. Her step was firm and elas- 
tic ; her dark eye was full of fire ; and the co- 



THE JOURNEY. 39 

quetry of her air, and varied ornaments of her 
person, showed that she was accustomed to be 
admired. 

She was well matched by a brother, nearly 
about her own age ; they were perfect models of 
the Andalusian Majo and Maja. He was tall, 
vigorous, and well-ibrmed, with a clear olive com- 
plexion, a dark beaming eye, and curling chestimt 
whiskers that met under his chin. He was gal- 
lantly dressed in a short green velvet jacket, fitted 
to his shape, profusely decorated with silver but- 
tons, with a white handkerchief in each pocket. 
He had breeches of the same, with rows of but- 
tons from the hips to the knees ; a pink silk hand- 
kerchief round his neck, gathered through a ring, 
on the bosom of a neatly plaited shirt ; a sash 
round the waist to match ; bottinas, or spatter- 
dashes, of the finest russet leather, elegantly 
worked, and open at the calf to show his stock- 
ing ; and I'usset shoes, setting off a well-shaped 
foot. 

As he was standing at the door, a horseman 
rode up and entered into low and earnest conver- 
sation with him. He was dressed in a similar 
style, and almost with equal finery ; a man about 
thirty, square-built, with strong Roman features, 
handsome, tiiough slightly pitted with the small- 
pox ; with a free, bold, and somewhat daring air. 
His powerful black horse was decorated with 
tassels and tanciful trappings, and a couple of 
broad-mouthed blundeibusses hung behind the 
saddle. He had the air of one of those contra- 
bandistas I liave seen in the mountains of Ronda, 



40 TUE JOURNEY. 

and evidently had a good nnderstanding with the 
brother of mine hostess ; nay, if I mistake not, 
he was a favored admirer of the widow. In fact, 
the whole inn and its inmates had something of 
a contrabandista aspect, and a blunderbuss stood 
in a corner beside the guitar. The horseman I 
have mentioned passed his evening in the posada, 
and sang several bold mountain romances with 
great spirit. As we Avere at supper, two poor 
Asturians put in in distress, begging food and a 
night's lodging. They had been waylaid by rob- 
bers as they came from a fair among the moun- 
tains, robbed of a horse which carried all their 
stock in trade, stripped of their money, and most 
of their apparel, beaten for having offered re- 
sistance, and left almost naked in the road. My 
companion, with a prompt generosity natural to 
him, ordered them a supper and a bed, and gave 
them a sum of money to help them forward to- 
wards their home. 

As the evening advanced, the dramatis per - 
sonce thickened. A large man, about sixty years 
of age, of powerful frame, came strolling in, to 
gossip with mine hostess. He was dressed in 
the ordinary Andalusian costume, but had a huge 
sabre tucked under his arm ; wore large mous- 
taches, and had something of a lofty swaggering 
air. Every one seemed to regard him with great 
deference. ^ 

Our man Sancho whispered to us that he was 
Don Ventura Rodriguez, the hero and champion 
of Loxa, famous for his prowess and the strength 
of his arm. In the time of the French invasion 



THE JOURNEY. 41 

he surprised six troopers who were asleep ; he 
first secured tlieir liorses, then attacked them with 
his sabre, killed some, and took the rest prisoners. 
For this exploit the king allows him a peseta 
(the fifth of a duro, or dollar) per day, and has 
dignified him with the title of Don. 

I was amused to behold his swelling hinguage 
and demeanor. He was evidently a thorough 
Andalusian, boastful as brave. His sabre was 
always in his hand or under his arm. He carries 
it always about with him as a child does its doll, 
calls it his Santa Teresa, and says, "-When I 
draw it, the earth trembles " (tiembla la tierra) 

I sat until a late hour listening to the varied 
themes of this motley group, who mingled to- 
gether with the unreserve of a Spanish posada. 
We had contrabandista songs, stories of robbers, 
guerrilla exploits, and Moorish legends. The last 
were from our handsome landlady, who gave a 
poetical account of the Infiernos, or infernal re- 
gions of Loxa, — dark caverns, in which subterra- 
nean streams and waterfalls make a mysterious 
sound. The common people say that there are 
money-coiners shut up tliere from the time of the 
Moors ; and that the Moorish kings kept their 
treasures in those caverns. 

I retired to bed with my imagination excited 
by all that I had seen and heard in this old war- 
cior city. Scarce had I fallen asleep when I was 
aroused by a horrid din and uproar, that miglit 
have confounded the hero of La Mancha himself, 
whose experience of Spanish inns was a contin- 
ual uproar. It seemed for a moment as if the 



42 THE JOURNEY. 

Moors were once more breaking into the town j 
or tlie infiernos of M'hich mine hostess talked had 
broken loose. I sallied forth, half dressed, to 
reconnoitre. It was nothing more nor less tli?n a 
charivari to celebrate the nuptials of nn old "\aiJ 
with a buxom damsel. Wishing him jov of lii.* 
bride and his serenade, I returned to my mor^ 
quiet bed, and slept soundly until morning. 

While dressing, I amused myself in reconnoi- 
tring the populace from my window. There 
were groups of fine-looking young men in the 
trim fanciful Andalusian costume, v/ith brown 
cloaks, thrown about them in true Spanish style, 
which cannot be imitated, and httle round majo 
hats stuck on with a peculinr knowing air. They 
had the same galliard look wh'^*h I have, remarked 
among the dandy mounir.:nec^s cf Ronda. In- 
deed, all this part of Andalnss. abounds with 
such game-looking characters. i\<^v loiter about 
the towns and villages ; seem to Lavo plenty of 
time and plenty of money ; " horse to ride and 
weapon to wear." Great gossips, great smokers. 
apt at touching the guitar, singing couplets to 
their maja belles, and famous dancers of the bo- 
lero. Throughout all Spain the men, however 
poor, have a gentlemanlike abundance of lei- 
sure seeming to consider it the attribute of a 
true cavaliero never to be in a hurry ; but the 
Andalusians are gay as well as leisurely, and 
have none of the squalid accompaniments of 
idleness. The adventurous contraband trade 
which prevails throughout these mountain regions, 
and along the maritime borders of Andalusia, is 



THE JOURNEY. 43 

doubtless at the bottom of this gaUiard char- 
acter. 

In contrast to the costume of these groups wag 
that of two long-legged Valencians conducting a 
donkey, laden with articles of merchandise ; their 
musket shi ng crosswise over his back, ready for 
action. They wore round jackets (jalecos), wide 
linen bragas or drawers scarce reaching to the 
knees and looking like kilts, red fajas or sashes 
swathed tightly round their waists, sandals of es- 
partal or ba?s weed, colored kercliiefs round their 
heads somewhat in the style of turbans, but leav- 
ing the top of the head uncovered ; in short, 
their whole appearance having much of the tra- 
ditional Moorish stamp. 

On leaving Loxa we were joined by a cavalier, 
well mounted and well armed, and followed on 
foot by an escopetero or musketeer. He saluted 
us courteously, and soon let us into his quality. 
He was chief of the customs, or rather, I should 
suppose, chief of an armed company whose busi- 
ness it is to patrol the roads and look out for con- 
trabandistas. The escopetero Avas one of his 
guards. In the course of our morning's ride I 
drew from him some particulars concerning the 
smugglers, who have risen to be a kind of mon- 
grel (diivalry in Spain. They come into Anda- 
lusia, he said, from various parts, but especially 
from La JNIancha ; sometimes to receive goods, to 
be smuggled on an appointed night across the 
line at the plaza or strand of Gibraltar ; some- 
times to meet a vessel, which is to hover on a 
given night off a certain part of the coast. They 



44 THE JOURNEY. 

keep together and travel in the night. In the 
daytime they he quiet in barrancos, guUiea 
of the mountains, or lonely farm-houses ; where 
they are generally well received, as they make 
the family liberal presents of their smuggled 
wares. Indeed, much of the finery and trinkets 
worn by the wives and daughters of the moun- 
tain hamlets and farm-houses are presents from 
the gay and open-handed contrabandistas. 

Arrived at the part of the coast where a vessel 
is to meet them, they look out at night from some 
rocky point or headland. If they descry a sail 
near the shore they make a concerted signal ; 
sometimes it consists in suddenly displaying a 
lantern three times from beneath the folds of a 
cloak. If the signal is answered, they descend 
to the shore and prepare for quick work. The 
vessel runs close in ; all her boats are busy land- 
ing the smuggled goods, made up into snug pack- 
ages for transportation on horseback. Tiiese are 
hastily thrown on the beach, as hastily gathered 
up and packed on the horses, and then the con- 
trabandistas clatter off to the mountains. They 
travel by the roughest, wildest, and most solitary 
roads, where it is almost fruitless to pursue them. 
The custom-house guards do not attempt it : they 
take a different course. When they hear of one 
of these bands returning full freighted through 
the mountains, they go out in force, sometimes 
twelve infantry and eight horsemen, and take 
their station where the mountain defile opens into 
the plain. The inftmtry, who lie in ambush some 
distance within the defile, suffer the band to pass. 



THE JOURNEY. 45 

then rise and fire upon them. The contraban- 
distas dash forward, but are met in front by the 
horsemen. A wild skirmish ensues. The con- 
trabandistas, if hard pressed, become desperate. 
Some dismount, use their horses as breastworks, 
and fire over their backs ; others cut the cords, 
let the packs fall off to delay the enemy, and 
endeavor to escape with their steeds. Some get 
off in this way vvith the loss of their packages ; 
some are taken, horses, packages, and all ; others 
abandon everything, and make their escape by 
scrambling up the mountains. " And then," 
cried Sancho, who had been listening with a 
greedy ear, " se hacen ladrones legitimos" — and 
then they become legitimate robbers. 

I could not help laughing at Sancho's idea of 
a legitimate calling of the kind ; but tlie chief 
of customs told me it was really the case that 
the smugglers, wdien thus reduced to extremity, 
thought they had a kind of riglit to take the 
road, and lay travellers under contribution, until 
they had collected funds enough to mount and 
equip tUemselves in contrabandista style. 

Towards noon our wayfaring companion took 
leave of us and turned up a steep defile, fol- 
lowed by his escopetero ; and shortly afterwards 
we emerged from the mountains, and entered 
upon the far-famed Vega of Granada. 

Our last mid-day's repast was taken under a 
grove of olive-trees on the border of a rivulet. 
We were in a classical neighborhood ; for not 
far off were the groves and orchards of the Soto 
de Eoma. This, according to fabulous tradition, 



46 11 tr. jOLUiM-.y. 

was a retreat founded by Count Julian to con- 
sole his daughter P^loriuda. It was a rural re- 
sort of the Mooi'ish kings of Granada ; and has 
in modern times been granted to the Duke of 
Wellington. 

Our worthy squire made a half melancholy 
face as he drew forth, for the last time, the con- 
tents of his alforjas, lamenting that our expedi- 
tion was drawing to a close, for, with such cava- 
liers, he said, he could travel to the world' s end. 
Our repast, however, was a gay one ; made under 
such delightful auspices. The day was without 
a cloud. The heat of the sun was tempered by 
cool breezes from the mountains. Before us ex- 
tended the glorious Vega. In the distance was 
romantic Granada surmounted by the ruddy towers 
oi" the Alhambra, while far above it the snowy 
summits of the Sierra Nevada shone like silver. 

Our repast finished, we spread our cloaks and 
took our last siesta al fresco, lulled by the hum- 
ming of bees among the flowers and the notes of 
doves among the olive-trees. When the sultry 
hours were passed we resumed our journey. 
After a time we overtook a pursy little man, 
shaped not unlike a toad and mounted on a mule. 
He fell mto conversation with Sancho, and find- 
ing we were strangers, undertook to guide us to 
a good posada. He was an escribano (notary), 
he said, and knew the city as thoroughly as his 
own pocket. " Ah Dios Se Sores ! what a city 
you are going to see. Such streets ! such squares ! 
Bucli palaces ! and then the women — ah Santa 
Maria purisima — what women ! " — " But the 



THE jourm:y. 47 

posada yon talk of," said I, " are you sure it ig 
a good one?" 

" Good ! Santa Maria ! the best in Granada. 
Salones grandes — camas de luxo — colchones 
do pluma (grand saloons — luxurious sleeping- 
•ooms — beds of down). Ah, soiiores, you will 
^are like King Chico in the Alhambra." 

'• And how will my horses fare ? " cried Sanclic. 

" Like King Chico's horses. Chocolate con 
Jeche y hollos para almuerza'" (chocolate and milk 
with sugar cakes for breakfast), giving the squire 
a knowing wink and a leer. 

After such satisfactory accounts, nothing more 
was to be desired on that head. So we rode 
luietly on, the squab little notary taking the lead, 
and turning to us every moment with some fresh 
exclamation about the grandeurs of Granada and 
the famous times we were to have at the posada. 
Thus escorted, we passed between hedges of 
aloes and Indian figs, and through that w^ilderness 
of gardens with which the vega is embroidered, 
and arrived about sunset at the gates of the city. 
Our officious little conductor conveyed us up one 
street and down another, until he rode into the 
court-yard of an inn where he appeared to be 
perfectly at home. Summoning the landlord by 
his Christian name, he committed us to his care as 
two cavalleros de mucho valor, worthy of his best 
apartments and most sumptuous fare. We weio 
instjintly reminded of the patronizing stranger 
who introduced Gil Bias with such a fiourish of 
trumpets to tlie host and hostess of the inn at 
Pcunatlor, ordering trouts lor his supper, and eat- 



48 THE JOURNEY. 

ing voraciously at his expense. " You know 
not what you possess," cried he to the innkeeper 
and his wife. " You have a treasure in your 
house. Behold in this young gentleman tho 
eiijhth wonder of the world — nothino^ in tliiy 
house is too good for Senor Gil Bias of Santil- 
lane, who deserves to be entertained like a 
prince." 

Determined that the little notary should not 
eat trouts at our expense, like his prototype* of 
Pennafior, we forbore to ask him to supper ; nor 
had we reason to reproach ourselves with in^^rat- 
itude, for we found before morning the little 
varlet, who was no doubt a good friend of the 
landlord, had decoyed us into one of the shab/ if.st 
posadjis.iu Granada. 






PxVLACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

the traveller imbued with a feeling for 
the historical and poetical, so inseparably 
intertwined in the annals of romantic 
Spain, tiie Alhanibra is as much an object of de- 
votion as is the Caaba to all true Moslems. How 
many legends and traditions, true and fabulous, — 
how many songs and ballads, Arabian and Span- 
ish, of love and war and chivalry, are associated 
with this Oriental pile! It was the royal abode 
of the Moorish kings, where, surrounded with the 
splendors and refinements of Asiatic luxury, they 
lield dominion over what they vaunted as a terres- 
trial paradise, and made their last stand for em- 
pire in Spain. The royal palace forms but a 
part of a fortress, the walls of which, studded 
with towers, stretch irregulai ly round the whole 
crest of a hill, a spur of the Sierra Nevada or 
Snowy Mountains, and overlook the city ; exter- 
nally it is a rude congregation of towers and bat- 
tlements, with no regularit}^ of plan nor grace of 
architecture, and giving little promise of the 
grace and beauty which prevail within. 

In t!ie time of the Moors the fortress was 
capable of containing within its outward pre- 



50 HISTORIC FACTS. 

cincts an army of forty thousand men, and served 
occasionally as a strong-hold of the sovereigns 
against their rebellious subjects. After the king- 
dom had passed into the hands of the Christians, 
the Alhambra continued to be a royal demesne, 
and was occasionally inhabited by the Castillan 
monarchs. The emperor Charles V. commenced 
a sumptuous palace within its walls, but was de- 
terred from completing it by repeated shocks of 
earthquakes. The last royal residents were 
Philip V. and his beautiful queen, Elizabetta of 
Parma, eaidy in the eigliteenth century. Great 
preparations were made for their reception. The 
palace and gardens were placed in a state of re- 
pair, and a new suite of apartments erected, and 
decorated by artists brought from Italy. Tiie 
sojourn of the sovereigns was transient, and after 
their departure the palace once more became des- 
olate. Still the place was maintained with some 
military state. The governor held it immediately 
from the crown, its jurisdiction extended down 
into the suburbs of the city, and was independent 
of tlie captain-general of Granada. A consid- 
erable garrison was kept up ; the governor had 
his apartments in the front of the old Moorish 
palace, and never descended into Granada with- 
out some military parade. The fortress, in fact, 
was a little town of itself, having^several streeta 
of houses Avithin its walls, together with a Fran- 
ciscan convent and a parochial churcli. 

The desertion of the com-t, however, was a 
fatal blow to the Alhambra. Its beautiful halls 
became desolate, and some of them fell to ruin ; 



HISTORIC FACTS. 51 

the gardens were destroyed, and the fonntaina 
ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings be* 
came filled witii a loose and lawless population : 
contrabandistas, who availed themselves of its 
independent jurisdiction to carry on a Avide and 
daring course of smuggling, and thieves and 
rogues of all sorts, who made this their place 
of refuge whence they might depredate upon 
Granada and its vicinity. The strong arm of 
government at length interfered ; the whole com- 
munity was thoroughly sifted ; none were suffered 
to remain but such as were of honest character, 
and had legitimate right to a residence ; the 
greater part of the houses were demolished and 
a mere hamlet left, with the parochial church and 
the Franciscan convent. During the recent troub- 
les in Spain, when Granada was in the hands of 
the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by 
their troops, and the palace was occasionally in- 
habited by the French commander. With that 
enlightened taste which has ever distinguished 
the French nation in their conquests, this monu- 
ment of Moorish elegance and grandeur was res- 
cued from the absolute ruin and desolation that 
were overwhelming it. The roofs were repaired, 
the saloons and galleries protected from the 
weather, the gardens cultivated, the watercourses 
restored, the fountains once more made to throw 
up their sparkling showers ; and Spain may thank 
her invaders for having preserved to her the most 
beautiful and interesting^ of her historical monu- 
ments. 

On the departure of the French they blew up 



52 r/:pajrs of the palace. 

Boveral towers of the outer wall, and left the for- 
titications scarcely tenable. Since that time the 
military importance of the post is at an end. The 
garrison is a handful of invalid soldiers, whose 
principal duty is to guard some of the outer tow- 
ers, which serve occasionally as a prison of state ; 
and the governor, abandoning the lofty hill of the 
Alhambra, resides in the centre of Granada, for 
the more convenient dispatch of his official duties. 
I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of 
the fortress without bearing testimony to the hon- 
orable exertions of its present commander, Don 
Francisco de Serna, who is tasking all the limited 
resources at his command to put the palace in a 
state of repair, and by his judicious precautions has 
for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had 
his predecessors discharged the duties of their 
station with equal fidelity, the Alhambra might 
yet have remained in almost its pristine beauty : 
were government to second him with means equal 
to his zeal, this relic of it might still be preserved 
for many generations to adorn the land, and 
attract the curious and enlightened of every 
clime. 

Our first object of course, on the morning af- 
ter our arrival, was a visit to this time-honored 
edifice ; it has been so often, however, and so 
minutely described by travellers, that I shall not 
undertake to give a comprehensive and elaborate 
account of it, but merely occasional sketches of 
parts, with the incidents and associations con- 
nected with them. 

Leaving our posada, and traversing the re- 



THE SON OF THE ALU AM BR A. 53 

nowned square of the Vivarrambla, once the 
scene of Moorish jousts and tournaments, now a 
crowded market-place, we proceeded along the 
Zacatin, the main street of what, in tlie time of 
the Moors, was the Great Bazaar, and where 
small shops and narrow alleys still retain the Ori- 
ental character. Crossing an open place in front 
of the palace of the captain-general, we ascended 
a confined and winding street, the name of which 
reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. 
It is called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres, 
from a Moorish family famous in chronicle and 
song. This street led up to tlie Puerta de las 
Granadas, a massive gateway of Grecian archi- 
tecture, built by Charles V., formmg the entrance 
to the domains of the Alhambi^a. 

At the gate were two or three ragged super- 
annuated soldiers, dozing on a stone bench, the 
successors of the Zegris and the Abencerrages ; 
while a tall, meagre varlet, whose rusty-brown 
cloak was evidently intended to conceal the 
ragged state of his nether garments, was loung- 
ing in the sunshine and gossiping with an ancient 
sentinel on duty. He joined us as we entered 
the gate, and offered his services to show us the 
fortress. 

I have a traveller's dislike to officious cice- 
roni, and did not altogether like the garb of the 
a})plicant. 

" You are well acquainted with the place, J 
presume 1 " 

" Ninguno mas ; pues senor, soy liijo de la Al- 
hambra." — (Nobody better ; in fact, sir, I am a 
Hon of the Alliambra I^l 



54 THE SON OF THE AL HAM BRA. 

The common Spaniards have certainly a most 
poetical way of expressing themselves. " A sou 
of the Alhambra ! " the aj)pellation caught me at 
once ; the very tattered garb of my new acquaint- 
ance assumed a dignity in my eyes. It was 
emblematic of the fortunes of the place, and be- 
fitted the progeny of a ruin. 

I put some further questions to him, and found 
that his title was legitimate. His family had 
lived in the fortress from generation to genera- 
tion ever since the time of the Conquest. His 
name was Mateo Ximenes. " Then, perhaps,'* 
said I, " you may be a descendant from the great 
Cardinal Ximenes ? " — " Dios Sabe ! God knows, 
Seiior ! It may be so. We are the oldest family 
in the Alhambra, — Christianos Viejos, old Chris- 
tians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. I 
know we belong to some great family or other, 
but I forget whom. My father knows all about 
it : he has the coat of arms hanging up in his 
cottage, up in the fortress." There is not any 
Spaniard, however poor, but has some claim to 
high pedigree. The first title of this ragged wor- 
thy, however, had completely captivated me ; so 
I gladly accepted the services of the " son of the 
Alhambra." 

We now found ourselves in a deep narrow 
ravine, filled with beautiful groves, with a steep 
avenue, and various footpaths \vinding through it, 
bordered with stone seats, and ornamented with 
fomitaijis. To our left we beheld the towers of 
the Alhambra beetling above us ; to our right, 
on the opposite side of the ravine, we were 



THE GATE OF JUSTICE. 55 

equally dominuted by rival towers on a rocky 
eminence. Tliese, we were told, were the Torres 
Vermejos, or vermilion towers, so called from 
their luddy line. No one knows their origin. 
They are of a date much anterior to the Alliam- 
bra : some suppose them to have been built by 
the Romans ; others, by some wandering colony 
of Phoenicians. Ascending the steep and shady 
avenue, we arrived at the foot of a huge square 
Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, 
through which passed the main entrance to the 
fortress. Within the barbican was another group 
of veteran invalids, one mounting guard at the 
portal, while the rest, wrapped in their tattered 
cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal 
is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal 
held within its porch during the Moslem domina- 
tion, for the immediate trial of petty causes : a 
custom common to the Oriental nations, and oc- 
casionally alluded to in the Sacred Scriptures. 
*' Judges and officers shalt thou make thee in all 
thy gates, and they shall judge the people with 
just judgment." 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is 
formed by an immense Arabian arch, of the 
horseshoe form, which springs to half the height 
of the tower. On the keystone of this arch is 
engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule, 
on the keystone of the portal, is sculptured, in 
like manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend 
to some knowledge of Mohammedan symbols, af- 
firm that the hand is the emblem of doctrine; 
the five fingers designating the five principal com- 



56 MOORIbH TALISMANS. 

mandments of the ci"eecl of Islam, fasting, pilgrim 
age, alms-giving, ablution, and war against infi- 
dels. The key, say they, is the emblem of the 
faith or of power ; the key of Daoiid, or David, 
transmitted to the prophet. " And the key of the 
house of David will I lay upon his shoulder ; so 
he shall open and none shall shut, and he shall 
shut and none shall open. (Isaiah xxii. 22.) The 
key we are told was emblazoned on the standard 
of the Moslems in opposition to the Christian em- 
blem of the cross, when they subdued Spain or 
Andalusia. It betokened the conquering power 
invested in the prophet. " He that hath the key 
of David, he that openeth and no man shutteth ; 
and shutteth and no man openeth.'* (Rev. iii. 7.) 

A different explanation of these emblems, how- 
ever, was given by the legitimate son of the Al- 
hambra, and one more in unison with the notions 
of the common people, who attach sometliing of 
mystery and magic to everything Moorish, and 
have all kinds of superstitions connected with this 
old Moslem fortress. According to Mateo, it was 
a tradition handed down fi'om the oldest inhabi- 
tants, and which he had from his father and grand- 
father, that the hand and key were magical de- 
vices on which the fate of the Alhambra depended. 
The Moorish king who built it was a great magi- 
cian, or, as some believed, had sold himself to 
the devil, and had laid the whole fortress under a 
magic spell. By this means it had remained 
standing for several years, in defiance of storms 
and earthquakes, while almost all other buildings 
of the Moors had fallen to ruin and disai>peared 



PLACE OF THE CISTERNS. 57 

This spell, tlie tradition went on to say, would 
last until the hand on the outer arch should reach 
down and grasp the key, when the whole pile 
would tumble to pieces, and all the treasures 
buried beneath it by the Moors w^ould be re- 
vealed. 

Notwithstandhig this ominous prediction, we 
ventured to pass through the spell-bound gateway, 
feelino: some little assiu'ance against mawic art in 
the protection of the Virgin, a statue of whom 
we observed above the portal. 

After passing through the barbican, we as- 
cended a narrow lane, winding between walls, 
and came on an open esplanade within the fortress, 
called the Plaza de 'los Algibes, or Place of the 
Cisterns, from great reservoirs which undermine 
it, cut in the living rock by the Moors to receive 
the water brought by conduits from the Darro, 
for the supply of the fortress. Hei"e, also, is a 
well of immense depth, furnishing the purest and 
coldest of water, — another monument of the del- 
icate taste of the Moors, who were indeiatigable 
in their exertions to obtain that element in its 
crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile 
commenced by Charles V., and intended, it is 
said, to eclipse the residence of the Moorish kings. 
Much of the Oriental edifice intended for the 
winter season was demolished to make way for 
this massive pile. The grand entrance was 
blocked up ; so that the present entrance to the 
Moorish palace is through a simple and almost 
bumble portal in a corner. AVith all me massive 



58 hXTERIOR OF THE PALACE. 

grandeur and architectural merit of the palace of 
Charles V., we regarded it as an arrogant in 
truder, and passing by it with a feeling almost of 
Bcorn, rang at the Moslem portal. 

While waiting for admittance, our self-imposed 
cicerone, Mateo Ximenes, informed us that the 
royal palace was intrusted to the care of a wor- 
thy old maiden dame called Dona Antonia-Molina, 
but who, according to Spanish custom, went by 
the more neighborly appellation of Tia Antonia 
(Aunt Antonia), who maintained the Moorish 
halls and gardens in order and showed them to 
strangers. While we were talking, the door was 
opened by a plump little black-eyed Andalusian 
damsel, whom Mateo addressed as Dolores, but 
who from her bright looks and cheerful disposi- 
tion evidently merited a merrier name. Mateo 
informed me in a whisper that she was the niece 
of Tia Antonia, and I found she was the good 
fairy who was to conduct us through the en- 
chanted })alace. Under her guidance we crossed 
the threshold, and were at once transported, as if 
by magic wand, into other times and an oriental 
realm, and were treading the scenes of Arabian 
story. Nothing could be in greater contrast than 
the unpromising exterior of the pile with the 
scene now before us. We found ourselves in a 
vast patio or court, one hundred and fifty feet in 
length, and upwards of eighty feet in breadth, 
paved with white marble, and decorated at 
each end with light Moorish peristyles, one of 
which supported an elegant gallery of fretted 
architecture. Alons the mouldino-s of the cor- 



INTERIOR OF TflE PALACE. 59 

uices and on various parts of the walls were 
escutcheons and ciphers, and cufic and Arabic 
characters in \\\\i\\ relief, repeating the pious 
mottoes of the Moslem monarchs, the builders 
of the Alhambra, or extolling their grandeur and 
munificence. Along the centre of the court ex- 
tended an immense basin or tank (estanque), a 
hundred and twenty-four feet in length, twenty- 
seven in breadth, and five in depth, i*eceiving its 
water from two marble vases. Hence it is called 
the Court of the Alberca (from al Beerkah, the 
Arabic for a pond or tank). Great numbers of 
gold-fish were to be seen gleaming through the 
waters of the basin, and it was bordered by 
hedges of roses. 

Passing fi-om the court of the Alberca under a 
Moorish archway, we entered the reno\;^ned court 
of Lions. No part of the edifice gives a more 
complete idea of its original beauty than this, for 
none has suffered so little from the ravages of 
time. In the centre stands the fountain famou? 
in song and story. The alabaster basins still shed 
their diamond drops ; the twelve lions which 
support them, and give the court its name, still 
cast forth crystal streams as in the days of Boab- 
dil. The lions, however, are unworthy of their 
fame, being of miserable sculpture, the work prob- 
ably of some Christian captive. The court is 
laid out in fiower-beds, instead of its ancient and 
appropriate pavemeut of tiles or marble ; the al- 
teration, an instance of bad taste, was made by 
the French when iji possession of Granada. 
Round the four sides of the court are liiiht Ara- 



60 INTERIOR OF THE PALACE. 

bian arcades of open filigree work, supported by 
slender pillars of while marble, which it is sup- 
posed were originally gilded. The architecture^ 
like that in most parts of the interior of tlie palace, 
is characterized by elegance rather than grandeur, 
'^)espeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a 
disposition to indolent enjoyment. When one 
looks upon the fairy traces of the peristyles, and 
the apparently fragile fretwork of the walls, it is 
difficult to believe that so much has survived the 
w^ear and tear of centuries, the shocks of earth- 
quakes, the violence of war, and the quiet, though 
no less baneful, pilferings of the tasteful traveller : 
it is almost sufficient to excuse the popular tra- 
dition, that the whole is protected by a magic 
charm. 

On one side of the court a rich portal opens 
into the Hall of the Abencerrages : so called from 
the gallant cavaliers of that illustrious line who 
were here perfidiously massacred. There are 
some who doubt the whole story, but our humble 
cicerone Mateo pointed out the very wicket of the 
portal through which they were introduced one 
by one into the court of Lions, and the white 
marble fountain in the centre of the hall beside 
which they were beheaded. He showed us also 
certain broad ruddy stains on the pavement, 
traces of their blood, which, according to popular 
belief, can never be effaced. 

Finding we listened to him apparently with 
easy faith, he added, that there was often heard 
at night, in the court of Lions, a low confused 
Bound, resembling the murmuring of a multitude ; 



MOORISH P /I AN TO MS. 61 

and now and then a faint tinkling, like the dis- 
tant clank of chains. These sounds were made 
by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages ; 
who nigiitly haunt the scene of their suffering 
and invoke the vengeance of Heaven on their 
destroyer. 

The sounds in question had no doubt been pro- 
duce 1, as I had afterwards an opportunity of as- 
certaining, by the bubbling currents and tinkling 
tails of water conducted under the pavement 
through pipes and channels to supply the foun- 
tains ; but I was too considerate to intimate such 
an idea to the humble chronicler of the Alhambra. 

Encouraged by my easy credulity, Mateo gave 
me the following as an undoubted fact, which he 
had from his grandfather : — 

There was once an invalid soldier, who had 
charge of the Alhambra to show it to strangers ; 
as he was one evening, about twilight, passing 
through the court of Lions, he heard footsteps on 
the Hall of the Abencerrages ; supposing some 
strangers to be lingering there, he advanced to 
attend upon them, when to his astonishment he 
beheld four Moors richly dressed, with gilded 
cuii-asses and cimeters, and poniards glittering 
with precious stones. They were walking to and 
fro, with solemn pace ; but paused and beckoned 
to him. The old soldier, however, took to flight, 
and could never afterwards be prevailed upon to 
snter the Alhambra. Thus it is that men some- 
times turn their backs upon fortune ; for it is the 
firm opinion of Mateo, that the Moors intended 
to reveal the place where their treasures lay 



62 HALL OF THE TWO SISTElia. 

buried. A successor to the invalid soldier wa3 
more knowing ; he came to the Alhambra poor ; 
but at the end of a year went off to Malaga, 
bought houses, set up a carriage, and still lives 
there, one of the richest as well as oldest men of 
the place ; all which, Mateo sagely surmised, was 
in consequence of his finding out the golden se- 
cret of these phantom Moors. 

I now perceived I had made an invaluable ac- 
quaintance in this son of the Alhambra, one who. 
knew all the apocryphal history of the place, and 
firmly believed in it, and whose memory was 
stuffed with a kiiid of knowledge for which I 
have a lurking fancy, but which is too apt to be 
considered rubbish by less indulgent philosophers. 
I determined to cultivate the acquaintance of this 
learned Theban. 

Immediately opposite the hall of the Abencer- 
rages, a portal, richly adorned, leads into a hall 
of less tragical associations. It is light and lofty, 
exquisitely graceful in its architecture, paved 
with white marble, and bears the suggestive 
niKiie of the Hall of the Two Sisters. Some 
destroy the romance of the name by attributing 
it to two enormous slabs of alabaster which lie 
side by side, and form a great part of the pave- 
ment : an opinion strongly supported by Mateo 
Ximenes. Others are disposed to give the name 
a more poetical significance, as the vague me- 
morial of Moorish beauties who once graced this 
ball, which was evidently a part of the royal 
Uarem. This opinion I was happy to find enter- 
tained by our ijtle bright-eyed guide, Dolores, 



HALL OF THE TWO SISTERS. 63 

vrho pointed to a balcony over an inner porch ; 
which gallery, she had been told, belonged to the 
women's apartment. " Yon see, senor," said she, 
" it is all grated and latticed, like the gallery in 
a convent chapel where the nuns hear mass : lor 
the Mocrish kings," added she, indignantly, " shut 
up their wives just like nuns." 

The latticed ''jalousies," in fact, still remain, 
whence the dark-eyed beauties of the harem 
miglit gaze unseen upon the zambras and other 
dances and entertainments of the hall below. 

On each side of this hall are recesses or al 
coves for ottomans and couches, on which the 
voluptuous lords of the Alhambra indulged in 
that dreamy repose so dear to the Orientalists. 
A cupola or lantern admits a tempered light from 
above and a free circulation of air ; while on one 
side is heard the refreshing sound of waters from 
the fountain of the lions, and on the other side 
the soft plash li-om the basin in the garden of 
Lindaraxa. 

It is impossible to contemplate this scene, so 
perfectly Oriental, without feeling the early asso- 
ciations of Arabian romance, and almost expect- 
ing to see the white arm of some mysterious 
princess beckoning from the gallery, or some dark 
eye sparkling through the lattice. The abode of 
beauty is here as if it had been inhabited but 
yesterday ; but where are the two sisters, where 
the Zoraydas and Lindaraxas ! 

An abundant supply of water, brought from 
the moimtains by old Moorish aqueducts, circu- 
lates throughout the palace, sui)plying its hatha 



64 MORIS CO ARCHITECTURE. 

and fish -pools, sparkling in jets within its halls 
or murmuring in channels along the marble pave- 
ments. When it has paid its tribute to the royal 
pile, and visited its gardens and parterres, it flows 
down the long avenue leading to the city, tink- 
Hng in rills, gushing in fountains, and maintaining 
a perpetual verdure in those groves that embower 
and beautify the whole hill of the Alhambra. 

Those only who have sojourned in the ardent 
climates of the South can appreciate the delights 
of an abode combining the breezy coolness of 
the mountain with the freshness and verdure of 
the valley. Wliile the city below pants with the 
noontide heat, and the parched Vega trembles to 
the eye, the delicate airs from the Sierra Ne- 
vada play through these lofty halls, bringing with 
/Jiem the sweetness of the surrounding gardens. 
Everything invites to that indolent repose, the 
bliss of southern climes ; and wliile the half-shut 
eye looks out from shaded balconies upon the glit- 
tering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling 
of groves and the murmur of running streams. 

I forbear for the present, however, to describe 
the other delightful apartments of the palace. 
My object is merely to give the reader a general 
introduction into an abode where, if so disposed, 
he may linger and loiter with me day by day until 
we gradually become familiar with all its locali- 
ties. 

NOTE ON MORISCO AKCHITECTUHE. 

1 an unprac'^ised eye the light relievos and fanciful ara- 
besques which cover the walls of the Alhambra appear to 
have been sculptured by the hand, with a minute and patient 



MORISCO ARCHITECTURE. 6*5 

labor, an inexhaustible variety of detail, yet a general uni- 
formity and harmony of design truly astonishing; and this 
may especially be said of the vaults and cupulas, which are 
wrought like honey-combs, or frostwork, with stalactites and 
pendants which confound the beholder with the seeming in- 
triv.acy of their patterns. The astonishment ceases, how- 
ever, when it is discovered that this is all stucco-work; platea 
cf plaster of Paris, cast in moulds and skilfully joined so as 
to form patterns of every size and form. This mode of dia- 
pering Avails with arabesques, and stuccoing the vaults with 
grotto-work, Avas invented in Damascus, but highly improved 
by the Moors in ^Morocco, to whom Saracenic architecture 
owes its most graceful and fanciful details. The process by 
which all this fairy tracery Avas produced was ingeniously 
simple. The Avall in its naked state Avas divided otf by lines 
crossing at right angles, such as artists use in copying a pic- 
ture ; over these Avere draAvn a succession of intersecting seg- 
ments of circles. By the aid of these the artists could Avork 
with celerity and certainty, and from the mere intersection 
of the plain and curved lines arose the interminable variety 
of patterns and the general uniformity of their character.* 

Much gilding Avas used in the stucco-Avork, especially of the 
cupolas; and the interstices Avere delicately pencilled Avith 
brilliant colors, such as vermilion and lapis lazuli, laid on 
Avith the Avhites of eggs. The primitive colors alone Avere used, 
says Ford, by the Egyptians, Greeks, and Arabs, in the early 
period of art; and they preA'ail in the Alhambra Avhenever 
the artist has been Arabic or Moorish. It is remarkable how 
much of their original brilliancy remains after the lapse of 
several centuries. 

The loAver part of the walls in the saloons, to the height of 
BGA'cral feet, is incrusted Avith glazed tiles, joined like the 
plates of stucco-AA^ork, so as to form A^arious patterns. On 
some of them are emblazoned the escutcheons of the Mos- 
lem kings, traversed Avith a band and motto. These glazed 
tiles (azulejos in Spanish, az-zulaj in Arab'c) are of Oriental 
origin; their coolness, cleanliness, and freedom fi-om vermin, 
render them admirably lifted in sultry climates for paving 
haUs and fountains, incrusting bathing-rooms, and lining tht 
* See Urquhiirt's Pillars of Hercules, B. III. C 8 
5 



66 MORI SCO ARCHITECT UliF.. 

walls of chambers. Ford is inclined to give them gieat 
antiquity. From their prevailing colors, sapphire and blue, 
he deduces that they may have formed the kind of pave- 
ments alluded to in the sacred Scriptures: — "There Avas 
under his feet as it Avere a paved work of a sapphire stone " 
(HKod. xxiv. 10); and again, " Jkhold I will lay thy stone* 
with fair colors, and lay thy foundations with sapphires'^ 
(Isaiah liv. 11). 

These glazed or porcelain tiles Avere introduced into Spain 
at an early date by the ^loslems. Some are to be seen 
among the Moorisli ruins Avhich huA-e been there upwards rjf 
eight centuries. .Manufactures of them still exist in the I'ec- 
insula, and they are much used in the best Spanish houses, 
especially in the southern provinces, for paving and lining 
the summer apartments. 

The Spaniards introduced them into the Xetiicrlands 
when they had possession of that country. The people of 
Holland adopte<l them Avith avidity, as Avonderfully suited to 
tlieir passio)i for household cleanliness; and tlius these Ori- 
ental inventions, the azulejos of the Spanish, the az-zulaj of 
the Arabs, have come to be commonly known as Dutch tiles. 



^ 






t 




r^TPORTANT NEGOTIATIONS. — THE AU- 
THOR SUCCEEDS TO THE THRONE OF 
BOABDIL. 




HE day was nearly spent before we 
could tear ourself from this region of 
poetry and romance to descend to the 
city and return to the forlorn realities of a Span- 
ish po>a(k. In a visit of ceremony to tiie Gov- 
ernor ol" the Alhambra, to whom we had brought 
letters, we dwelt with enthusiasm on the scenes 
we had witnessed, and could not but express 
surprise that he should reside in the city when 
he had such a paradise at his command. He 
pleaded the inconvenience of a residence in the 
palace from its situation on the crest of a hill, 
distant from the seat of business and the re- 
sorts of social intercourse. It did very well for 
monarchs, who often had need of castle walls to 
defend them from their own subjects. " But, 
seiiors," added he, smiling, " if you think a resi- 
dence there so desirable, my apartments in tlie 
Alhambra are at your service." 

It is a common and almost indispensable point 
of politeness in a Spaniard, to tell you his house 
is yc^^rs. — '' Esta Ciisa es siempre a la disposicion 



68 THE LOAN OF A PALACE. 

de Vm." — " This house is always at the com« 
mand of your Grace." In fact, anything of his 
which you admire, is immediately offered to you. 
It is equally a mark of good breeding in you not 
to accept it ; so we merely bowed our acknowl- 
edgments of the courtesy of the Governor in 
offering us a royal palace. We were mistaken, 
however. The Governor was in earnest. " You 
will find a rambling set of empty, unfurnished 
rooms," said he ; '' but Tia Antonia, who has 
charge of the palace, may be able to put them in 
some kind of order, and to take care of you 
wiiile you are there. If you can make any ar- 
rangement witli her for your accommodation, and 
are content with scanty fare in a royal abode, the 
palace of King Cliico is at your service:" 

^V^e took the Governor at his word, and hast- 
ened up the steep Gdle de los Gomeres, and 
through the Great Gate of Justice, to negotiate 
with Dame Antonia, — doubting at times if this 
were not a dream, and fearing at times that the 
sage Duena of the fortress might be slow to ca- 
pitulate. We knew we had one friend at least 
in the garrison, who would be in our favor, the 
bright-eyed little Dolores, whose good graces we 
had propitiated on our first visit ; and who hailed 
our return to the palace with her brightest looks. 

All, however, went smoothly. The good Tia 
Antonia had a little furniture to put in the rooms, 
but it was of the commonest kind. We assured 
her we could bivouac on the floor. She could 
Bupply our table, but only in her own simple 
way ; — we wanted nothing better. Her niece. 



DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS. 69 

Dolores, would wait upon us ; and at the word 
we threAV up our hats and the bargain A'as com- 
plete. 

The very next day we took up our abode in 
the palace, and nevei* did sovereigns share a di- 
vided throne with more perfect harmony. Sev- 
eral days passed by like a dream, when my woi-- 
tliy associate, being summoned to Madrid on 
diplomatic duties, was compelled to abdicate, leav- 
ing me sole monarch of this shadowy realm. For 
myself, being in a manner a hap-hazard loiterer 
about the world, and prone to linger in its pleas- 
ant places, here have I been suffering day by day 
to steal away unheeded, spell-bound, for aught I 
know, in this old enchanted pile. Having always 
a companionable feeling for my reader, and being 
prone to live with him on confidential terms, I 
shall make it a point to communicate to him my 
reveries and researches during this state of deli- 
cious thraldom. If they have the power of im- 
parting to his imagination any of the witching 
charms of the place, he will not repine at linger- 
ing with me for a season in the legendary halls 
of the Alhambra. 

And first it is proper to give him some idea of 
my domestic arrangements : they are rather. of a 
simple kind for the occupant of a regal palace ; 
but I trust they will be less liable to disastrous 
reverses than those of my royal predecessors. 

My quarters are at one end of the Governor's 
apartment, a suite of empty chambers, in front 
of the palace, looking out upon the great espla- 
nade called la plaza de los alglhes (the place 



70 TUE BRIGHT-EYED DOLORES. 

of the cisterns) ; the apartment is modern, but 
the end opposite to my sleeping-room commiini 
cates Avith a chister of little chambers, partly 
Moorish, partly Spanish, allotted to the chatelaine 
Dofia Antonia and her family. In consideration 
of keeping the palace in order, the good dame is 
allowed all the perqnisites received from visitors, 
and all the produce of the gardens ; excepting that 
she is expected to pay an occasional tribute of fruits 
and flowers to the Governor. Her family consists 
of a nephew and niece, the children of two differ- 
ent brothers. The nephew, Manuel Molina, is a 
young man of sterling worth and Spanish gravity. 
He had served in the army, both in Spain and the 
West Indies, but is now studying medicine in 
the hope of one day or other becoming physician 
to the fortress, a post worth at least one hundred 
and forty dollars a year. The niece is the plump 
little black-eyed Dolores already mentioned ; and 
who, it is said, will one day inherit all her aunt's 
possessions, consisting of certain petty tenements 
in the fortress, in a somewhat ruinous condition 
it is true, but which, I am privately assured by 
Mateo Ximenes, yield a revenue of nearly one 
hundred and fifty dollars ; so that she is quite an 
heiress in the eyes of the ragged son of the Al- 
hambra. I am also informed by the same observ- 
ant and authentic personage, that a quiet court- 
ship is going on between the discreet Manuel and 
his bright-eyed cousin, and that nothing is want- 
ing to enable them to join their hands and 
expectations but his doctor's diploma, and a dis- 
pensation from the Pope on account of their con- 
sanguinity. 



MATEO XIMENES. 71 

The good (lame Antonia fulfils faithfully her 
coutraet in regartl to my board and lodging ; and 
as I am easily pleased, I find my fare excellent ; 
while the merry-hearted little Dolores keeps my 
apartment in order, and officiates as handmaid at 
meal-times. I have also at my command a tall, 
stuttering, yellow-haired lad, named Pepe; who 
works in the gardens, and would fain have acted 
as valet; but in this he was forestalled by Mateo 
Ximenes, " the son of the Alharabra." This 
alert and officious wight has managed, somehow 
or other, to stick by me ever since I first encoun- 
tered him at tlie outer gate of the fortress, and 
to weave himself into all my plans, until he has 
fairly appointed and installed himself my valet, 
cicei-one, guide, guard, and historiographic squire ; 
and I have been obliged to improve the state of 
his wardrobe, that he may not disgrace his various 
functions ; so that he has cast his old brown man- 
tle, as a snake does his skin, and now appears 
about the fortress with a smart Andalusian hat 
and jacket, to his infinite satisfaction, and the 
great astonishment of his conu'ades. The chief 
fault of honest Mateo is an over-anxiety to be 
useful. Conscious of having foisted himself into 
my employ, and that my simple and quiet habits 
render his situation a sinecure, he is at his wit's 
ends to devise modes of making himself important 
(o my welfare. I am in a manner the victim of 
his officiousness ; I cannot put my toot over the 
'hreshold of the palace, to stroll about the for- 
tress, but he is at my elbow, to explain everything 
[ see : and if I venture to ramble amono- the sur- 



72 MATEO XniENEb. 

founding hills, he insists upon attending me as a 
guard, though I vehemently suspect he would be 
more apt to trust to the length of his legs than 
the strength of his arms, in case of attack. 
After all, however, the poor fellow is at times an 
amusing companion ; he is simple-minded aud of 
infinite good humor, with the loquacity and gos- 
sip of a village barber, and knows all the small- 
talk of the place and its environs ; but what he 
chiefly values himself on, is his stock of local 
information, having the most marvellous stories 
to relate of every tower, and vault, and gateway 
of the fortress, in all of which he places the 
most implicit faith. 

Most of these he has derived, according to 
his own account, from his grandfather, a little 
legendary tailor, who lived to the age of nearly a 
hundred years, during which he made but two 
migrations beyond the precincts of the ibrtress. 
His shop, for the greater part of a century, was 
the resort of a knot of venerable gossips, where 
they would pass half the night talking about 
old times, and the wonderful events and hidden 
secrets of the place. The whole living, moving, 
thinking, and acting of this historical little tailor 
had thus been bounded by the w^alls of the 
Alhambra ; Avithin them he had been born, within 
them he lived, breathed, and had his being; 
within them he died and was buried. Fortu- 
nately for posterity his traditionary loi'e died noV 
with liim. The authentic Mateo, when an ur- 
chin, used to be an attentive listener to the narra- 
tives of his grandfather, and of the gossiping group 



REGAL REPASTS. 73 

assembled round the shopboard, and is thus 
possessed of a stock of valuable knowledge eon- 
uerning the Alhambra, not to be found in books, 
ftnd well worthy the attention of every curious 
traveller. 

Such are the personages that constitute vaj 
regal household ; and I question whether any of 
the potentates, Moslem or Christian, who have 
preceded me in the palace, have been waited 
upon with greater fidelity, or enjoyed a serener 
sway 

When I rise in the morning, Pepe, the stut- 
tering lad from the gardens, brings me a tribute 
of fresh-culled flowers, which are afterwards ar- 
ranged in vases by the skilful hand of Dolores, 
who takes a feminine pride in the decoration of my 
chambei'S. My meals are made v>^herever caprice 
dictates ; sometimes in one of the Moorish halls, 
sometimes under the arcades of the court of 
Lions, surrounded by flowers and fountains : and 
when I walk out, I am conducted by the assid- 
uous Mateo to the most romantic retreats of the 
mountains, and delicious haunts of the adjacent 
valleys, not one of which but is the scene of 
some wonderful tale. 

Though fond of passing the greater part of my 
day alone, yet I occasionally repair in the even- 
mgs to the little domestic circle of Dona Antonia. 
This is generally held in an old Moorish chamber, 
•w Inch serves the good dame for parlor, kitchen, an(? 
Hall of audience, and which must have boasted 
pf some splendor in the time of the Moors, if we 
may judge from the traces yet remaining ; but 



74 THE LEVEE OF TIA AN TON I A. 

a rude fireplace has been made in modern times 
in one corner, the smoke from which has discolored 
the walls, and almost obliterated the ancient ara- 
besques. A. window, with a balcony overhanging 
the valley of the Darro, lets in the cool evening 
breeze ; and here I take my frugal supper of fruit 
and milk, and mingle with the conversation of the 
family. There is a natural talent or mother-wit, 
as it is called, about the Spaniards, which ren- 
ders them intellectual and agreeable companions, 
whatever may be their condition in life, or how- 
ever imperfect may have been their education : 
add to this, they are never vulgar ; nature has 
endowed them with an inherent dignity of spirit. 
The good Tia Antonia is a woman of strong and 
intelligent, though uncultivated mind ; and the 
bright-eyed Dolores, though she has read but 
three or four books in the whole course of her 
life, hiis an engaging mixture of naivete and good 
sense, and often surprises me by t]»e pungency of 
her artless sallies. Sometimes the nephew en- 
tertains us by reading some old comedy of Cal- 
deron or Lope de Vega, to which he is evidently 
prompted by a desire to improve as well as 
amuse his cousin Dolores ; though, to his great 
mortification, the little damsel generally falls 
asleep before tlie first act is completed. Some- 
times Tia Antonia has a little levee of humble 
friends and dependants, the inhabitants of the ad- 
jacent liamlet, or the wives of the invalid soldiers. 
Tliese look up to her with great deference, as the 
custodian of the palace, and pay their court to 
her by bringing the news of the place, or the 



MAHOMET S PARADISE. 75 

rumors that may have straggled up from Granada* 
In listening to these evening gossipings I have 
picked up many curious facts illustrative of the 
manners of the people and the peculiarities of the 
neigliborhood. 

These are simple details of simple pleasures ; 
it is the nature of the place alone that gives 
them interest and importance. I tread haunted 
ground, and am surrounded by romantic associa- 
tions. From earliest boyhood, when, on the 
banks of the Hudson, I first pored over the pages 
of old Gines Perez de Hytas's apociyphal but 
ciiivairesque history of the civil wars of Granada, 
and the feuds of its gallant cavaliers, the Zegries 
and Abencerrages, that city has ever been a sub- 
ject of my waking dreams ; and often have I trod 
in fancy the romantic halls of the Alhambra. Be- 
hold tor once a day-dream realized ; yet I can 
scarce credit my senses, or believe that I do 
indeed inhabit the palace of Boabdil, and look 
down from its balconies upon chivalric Granada. 
As 1 loiter through these Oriental chambers, and 
liear the murmur of fountains and the song of 
the nightingale ; as I inhale the odor of the rose, 
and feel the influence of the balmy climate, I am 
almost tempted to fancy myself in the paradise 
of Mahomet, and that the plump little Dolores is 
one of the bright-eyed houris, destined to admin- 
•ster to the happiness of true believers. 




INHABITANTS OF THE ALHxmBUA 

HAVE often observed that the more 
proudly a mansion has been tenanted in 
the day of" its prosperity, the humbler 
lire its inhabitants in the day of its decline, and 
that the palace of a king commonly ends in being 
the nestling-place of the beggar. 

The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar 
transition. Whenever a tower falls to decay, it 
is seized upon by some tatterdemalion family, 
who become joint-tenants, with the bats and owls, 
of its gilded halls ; and hang their rags, those 
standards of poverty, out of its windows and 
loopholes. 

I have amused myself with remarking some of 
the motley chai-acters that have thus usurped the 
ancient abode of royalty, and who seem as if 
placed here to give a farcical termination to the 
drama of human pride. One of these even bears 
the mockery of a regal title. It is a little old 
woman named Maria Antonia Sabonea, but who 
goes by the appellation of la Reyna Coquina, or 
the Cockle-queen. She is small enough to be a 
fairy ; and a lairy she may be for aught I cau 
finft out, for no one seems to know her orie:in 



THE COCKLE- QUEEN. 77 

Her haiDitatioii is in a kind of closet under the 
outer staircase of the palace, and she sits in the 
cool stone corridor, plying her needle and singing 
from morning till night, with a ready joke for 
every one that passes ; for though one of the 
poorest, she is one of the merriest little women 
breathing. Her great merit is a gift for story- 
telling, having, I verily believe, as many stories 
at her command as the inexhaustible Schehere- 
zaJe of the Thousand and One Nights. Some of 
these I have heard her relate in the evening ter- 
tulias of Dame Antonia, at which she is occa- 
Bionally a humble attendant. 

That there must be some fairy gift about this 
mysterious little old woman, would appear from 
her extraordinary luck, since, notwithstanding her 
being very little, very ugly, and very poor, she 
has had, according to her own account, five hus- 
bands and a half, reckoning as a half one a young 
dragoon, who died during courtship. A rival 
personage to this little fairy queen is a portly old 
fellow with a bottle-nose, who goes about in a 
rusty garb, with a cocked hat of oil-skin and a 
red cockade. He is one of the legitimate sons 
of the Alhambra, and has lived here all his life, 
filling various offices, such as deputy alguazil, 
sexton of the parochial church, and marker of a 
fives-court established at the foot of one of the 
towers. He is as poor as a rat, but as proud as 
he is ragged, boasting of his descent from the 
illustrious house of Aguilar, from which sprang 
Gonzalvo of Cordova, the grand captain. Nay, 
he actually bears the name of Alonzo de Aguilar 



7S THE FAMILY OF M-ATEO. 

BO renowned in the history of the Conquest ; 
though the graceless wags of the fortress have 
given him the title of el padre santo, or the holy 
father, the usual appellation of the Pope, which 
I had thought too sacred in the eyes of true 
Catholics to be thus ludicrously applied. It is a 
whimsical cap^'ice of fortune to present, in the 
grotesque person of this tatterdemalion, a name- 
sake and descendant of the proud Alonzo de 
Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian chivalry, lead- 
inir an almost mendicant existence about this 
once haughty fortress, ^vhich his ancestor aided 
to reduce ; yet such might have been tlie lot of 
the descendants of Agamemnon and Achilles, had 
they lingered about the ruins of Troy ! 

Of this motley community, I find the family 
of my gossiping squire, Mateo Ximenes, to form, 
from their numbers at least, a very important 
part. His boast of being a son of the Alhambra 
is not unfounded. His family has inhabited the 
fortress ever since the time of the Conquest, 
handing down an hereditary poverty from father 
to son ; not one of them having ever been known 
to be worth a maravedi. His ffither, by trade a 
ribbon-weaver, and w4io succeeded the historical 
tailor as the head of the family, is noAv near 
seventy years of age, and lives in a hovel of reeds 
and plaster, built by his own hands, just above 
tlie iron gate. The furniture consists of a crazy 
bed, a table, and two or three chairs ; a w^ooden 
ohest, containing, besides his scanty clothing, the 
' arclii\es of the family." These are nothing 
more nor less than the papers of various lawsuits 



THE FAMILY OF MATEO. 79 

Bustiiined by ditFerent ujcMicrations ; by which it 
would seem that, with all their apparent careless 
ness and good humor, they are a litigious brood. 
Most of the suits have been brought against 
gossiping neighbors for questioning the purity of 
their blood, and denying their being Christianoi 
riy'os, i. e. old Christians, without Jewish or 
^Moorish taint. In fact, I doubt whether this 
jealousy about their blood has not kept theiri so 
poor in purse : spending all their earnings on 
eseribanos and alguazils. The pride of the hovel 
is an escutcheon suspended against the wall, in 
which are emblazoned quarterings of the ai'uis 
of the Marquis of Caiesedo, and of various other 
noble houses, with wdiich this poverty-stricken 
brood claim affinity. 

As to Mateo himself, who is now about thirty- 
five years of age, he has done his utmost to per 
petuate his line and continue the poverty of the 
tamily, having a wife and a numerous progeny, 
who inhabit an almost dismantled hovel in the 
hamlet. How the}'' manage to subsist, he only 
who sees into all mysteries can tell : the subsist- 
ence of a Spanish family of the kind is always 
a riddle to me ; yet they do subsist, and what is 
more, appear to enjoy their existence. The wife 
takes her holiday stroll on the Paseo of Granada, 
u'ith a child in her arms and half a dozen at luir 
iieels ; and the eldest daughter, now verging into 
womanhood, dresses her luiir with liowers, and 
diinces gayly to the castanets. 

There are two classes of people to whom life 
leems one long hcjliday, — tlie very rich and the 



80 THE ART OF BEING IDLE. 

very poor ; one, because they need do nothing ; 
the other, because they have nothing to do ; but 
there are none who understand the art of doing 
nothing and living upon nothing, better than the 
poor classes of Spain. Climate does one half, 
and temperament the rest. Give a Spaniard 
tlie shade in summer and the sun in winter, a 
little bread, garlic, oil, and garbances, an old 
brown cloak and a guitar, and let the world roll 
on as it pleases. Talk of poverty ! with him it 
has no disgrace. It sits upon him witii a gran- 
diose style, like his ragged cloak. He is a hidalgo, 
even when in rags. 

The '' sons of the Alliambra " are an eminent 
illustration of tins practical ])hiIosophy. As the 
IMoors imagined that the celestial paradise hung 
over this favored spot, so I am inclined at times 
to fancv tliat a uleam of the irolden ao:e still 
lino-ers about this rao-ired community. Thev 
possess nothing, they do nothing, they care for 
nothing. Yet, though apparently idle all the 
week, they are as observant of all holy days and 
saints' days as the most laborious artisan. They 
attend all fetes and dancings in Granada and its 
vicinity, light boiilires on the hills on St. John's 
eve, and dance away the moonlight flights on the 
harvest-home of a small field within the precincts 
of the fortress, which yield a few bushels of 
wheat. 

J^elbre concluding these remarks, I must men- 
tion one of the amusements of the place, which 
has particulai-ly sn-iick me. I had repeatedly 
observed a long lean fellow perched on the top 



ANGLISG IN THE SKY. 81 

of one of the towers, jnaiiocuvring two or tlireo 
fisliing-roils, as tliouirh lie were nngiing for the 
stars. 1 was for some time pei'plexed by tlio 
evohitions of this aerial tisherinan, and my per- 
plexity increased on observing others employed 
in like manner on difierent parts of the battle- 
ments and bastions; it was not until I consnlted 
Mateo Ximenes tliat I solved the mystery. 

It seems that the pure and airy situation of 
this fortress has rendered it, like the castle of 
Macbeth, a prolific breeding-place for swallows 
and martlets, who sport about its towers in myr- 
iads, with the holiday glee of urchins just let 
loose from school. To entrap these birds in their 
giddy circlings, with hooks baited with flies, is 
one of the favorite amusements of the ragged 
*' sons of the Alhambra," who, with the good-for- 
nothing ingenuity of arrant idlers, have thus \rt 
vented the art of angling in the sky. 

6 





TPIE HALL OF AMBASSADORS. 

N one of my visits to the old Moorish 
chamber where the good Tia Antonia 
cooks her dinner and receives her com- 
pnny, 1 observed a mysterious door in one cor- 
ner, leading apparently into the ancient part of 
the edifice. My curiosity being aroused, I opened 
it, and found myself in a narrow, blind cor- 
ridor, groping along which I came to the head 
of a dark winding "staircase, leading down an 
angle of the tower of Comares. Down this stair- 
case I descended darkling, guiding myself by the 
wall until I came to a small door at the bottom, 
throwing which open, I was suddetdy dazzled by 
emersins: into the brilliant antechamber of the 
Hall of Ambassadors ; with the fountain of the 
court of the Alberca sparkling before me. Th^ 
antechamber is separated from the court by an 
elegant gallery, supported by slender columns witii 
spandrels of open work in the Morisco style. At 
each end of tlie antechamber are alcoves, and its 
ceiling is richly stuccoed and painted. Passing 
through a magnificent portal, I found myself in 
the far-famed Hall of Ambassadors, the audience 
chamber of the Moslem monarclis. It is said to 
be thirty-seven feet|Square, and sixty feet high ; 



THE BALL OF AMBASSADORS. 83 

occupies the whole interior of the Tower of Co- 
mares ; and still bears the traces of past magnifi- 
cence. The walls are beautifully stuccoed an<l 
decorated with Morisco fancifulness ; the lofty 
ceiling was originally of the same favorite mate- 
rial, ^^•ith the usual frostAvork and pensile orna- 
ments or stalactites ; which, with the embellish- 
ments of vivid coloring and gilding, must have 
been gorgeous in the extreme. Unfortunately it 
gave way during an earthqual^^, and brought 
down with it an immense arch which traversed 
the ludl. It was replaced by the present vault 
or dome of larch or cedar, with intersecting ribs, 
the whole curiously wrought and richly colored ; 
still Oriental in its character, reminding one 
of "those ceilings of cedar and vermilion tliat 
we read of in the Prophets and the Arabian 
Nights." * 

From the great height of the vault above the 
windows, the upper part of the hall is almost jost 
in obscurity ; yet there is a magnificence as ifell 
as solemnity in the gloom, as through it we have 
gleams of rich gilding and the brilliant tints of 
the Moorish pencil. 

The royal throne was placed opposite the en--^ 
trance in a recess, which still bears an inscription 
intimating that Yusef I. (the monarch who com- 
pleted the Alhambra) made this the throne of his 
empire. Everything in this noble hall seems to 
have been calculated to surround the throne with 
impressive dignity and splendor ; there was none 
of the elegant voluptuousness which reigns io 

* Urquhart's Pillars of Hercules. 



84 THE HALL OF AMBASSADORS. 

Other parts of the pahice. The tower is of mas- 
sive strength, domineering over the whole edifice 
and overhanging the steep hill-side. On three 
sides of the Hall of Ambassadors are win- 
dows cut tlirough the immense thickness of the 
walls, and commanding extensive prospects. The 
balcony of the central window especially looks 
down upon the verdant valley of the Darro, with 
its walks, its groves, and gardens. To the left 
it enjoys a distant prospect of the Yega ; whil<^ 
directly in front rises the rival height of the Al- 
baycln, with its medley of streets, and terraces, 
and gardens, and once crowned by a fortress that 
vied in power with the Alhambra. " 111 fated 
the man wlio lost all this ! " exclaimed Charles 
v., as he looked forth from this window upon the 
enchanting scenery it commands. 

The balcony of the window where this royal 
exclamation was made, has of late become one 
of my favorite resorts. I have just been seated 
there, enjoying the close of a long brilliant day. 
The sun, as he sank behind the purple mountains 
of Alhama, sent a stream of effulgence up the 
valley of the Darro, that spread a melancholy 
♦pomp over the ruddy towers of the Alhambra ; 
while the Vega, covered with a slight sultry va- 
por that caught the setting ray, seemed spread 
out in the distance like a golden sea. Not a 
breath of air disturbed the stillness of the hour, 
and though the faint sound of music and merri- 
ment now and then rose from the gardens of the 
Darro, it but rendered more impressive the mon- 
umental silence of tlie pile which overshadowed 



THE MOSLEMS OF SPAIN. 8o 

me. It was one of those hours and scenes in 
which memory asserts an ahiiost magical power : 
and, like the evening sun beaming on these moul- 
dering towers, sends back her retrospective rays 
to light up the glories of the past. 

As I sat watching the effect of the declining 
daylight upon this Moorish pile, I was led into a 
consideration of the light, elegant, and voluptuous 
character prevalent throughout its internal archi- 
tecture, and to contrast it with the grand but 
gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edifices reared 
by the Spanish conquerors. The very arciii lec- 
ture thus bespeaks the opposite and irreconcilable 
natures of the two warlike people who so long 
battled here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By 
degrees I fell into a course of musing upon the 
singular fortunes of the Arabian or Morisco- 
Spaniards, whose whole existence is as a tale that 
is told, and certainly forms one of the most anom- 
alous yet splendid episodes in hffetory. Potent 
and durable as was their dominion, we scarcely 
know how to call them. They were a nation 
without a legitimate country or name. A remote 
wave of the great Arabian inundation, cast upon 
the shores of Europe, they seem to have all the 
impetus of the first rush of the torrent. Their 
career of conquest, from the rock of Gibraltar 
(o the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and 
brilliant as the Moslem victories of Syria and 
Egypt. Nay, had they not been checked on the 
plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, might 
have been overrun with the same facility as the 
empires of the East, and the Crescent at thia 



86 THE MOSLEMS OF SPAIN. 

day have glittered on the fanes of Paris and 
London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyreneefs 
the mixed hordes of Asia and Africa, that formed 
this great irruption, gave up the Moslem principle 
of conquest, and sought to establish in Spain a 
peaceful and permanent dominion. As conquer- 
ors, their heroism was only equalled by their mod- 
eration ; and in both, for a time, they excelled 
the nations with whom they contended. Severed 
from their native homes, they loved the land 
given them as they supposed by Allah, and strove 
to embellish it with everything that could admin- 
ister to the happiness of man. Laying the foun- 
dations of their power in a system of wise and 
equitable laws, diligently cultivating the arts an 
sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures, 
and commerce, they gradually formed an empire 
unrivalled for its prosperity by any of the em- 
pires of Christendom ; and diligently drawing 
round them the graces and refinements Avhich 
marked the Arabian empire in the East, at the 
time of its greatest civilization, they diffused the 
lio;ht of Oriental knowledije throujrh the western 
regions of benighted Europe. 

The cities of Arabian Spain became the re- 
sort of Christian artisans, to instruct themselves 
in the useful arts. The universities of Toledo, 
Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought by 
the pale student from other lands to acquaint 
himself with the sciences of the Arabs and the 
treasured lore of antiquity ; the lovers of the 
gay science resorted to Cordova and Granada, tc 



MOSLEM MONUMENTS. 87 

imbibe the poetry and music of the East ; and the 
steel-clad warriors of the North hastened thither 
to accomplish themselves in the graceful exercises 
and courteous usages of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the 
iMosque of Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and 
the Alhambra of Granada, still bear, inscriptions 
fondly boasting of the power and permanency of 
their dominion, can the boast be derided as ar- 
rogant and vain ? Generation after generation, 
century after century, passed away, and still 
they maintained possession of the land. A period 
elapsed longer than that wliich has passed since 
England was subjugated by the Norman Con- 
queror, and the descendants of Musa and Taric 
might as little anticipate being driven into exile 
across the same straits, traversed by their trium- 
phant ancestors, as the descendants of Rollo and 
WilHam, and their veteran peers, may dream of 
being driven back to the shores of Normandy. 

With all this, liowever, tlie Moslem empire in 
Spain was but a brilliant exotic, that took no per- 
manent root in the soil it embellished. Severed 
from all their neighbors in the West by impass- 
able barriers of faith and manners, and separated 
by seas and deserts from their kindred of the 
East, the Morisco-Spaniards were an isolated 
people. Their whole existence was a prolonged, 
though gallant and chivalric struggle lor a foot- 
hold in a usurped land. 

They were the outposts and frontiers of Is- 
lamism. The Peninsula was the great battle- 
ground where the Gothic conquerors of the Nortli 



88 MOSLEM MONUMENTS. 

and the Moslem conquerors of the East met and 
strove for mastery ; and the fiery courage of the 
Ai'ab' was at length subdued by the obstinate and 
persevering valor of the Goth. 

Never was the annihilation of a people more 
complete than that of the Morisco-Spaniards. 
"Where are they ? Ask the shores of Barbary 
and its desert places. The exiled renuiant of 
their once powerful empire disappeared among 
the barbarians of Africa, and ceased to be a na- 
tion. They have not even left a distinct name 
behind them, though for nearly eight centuries 
they were a distinct people. The home of their 
adoption, and of their occupation for ages, refuses 
to acknowledge them, except as invaders and 
usurpers. A few broken monuments are all that 
remain to bear witness to their power and do- 
minion, as solitary rocks, left fai in the interior, 
bear testimony to the extent of some vast inun- 
dation. Such is the Alhambra ; — a Moslem pile 
in the midst of a Christian land ; an Oriental 
palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the West ; 
an elegant memento of a brave, intelligent, and 
graceful people, who conquered, ruled, flourished, 
and passed away. 





THE JESUITS' LIBRARY. 




'INCE indulging in the foregoing reverie, 
I my curiositj^ has been aroused to know 
; something of the princes who left be- 
hind them this monument of Oriental taste and 
magnificence, — and whose names still appear 
among the inscriptions on its walls. To gratify 
this curiosity, I have descended from this region 
of fancy and fable, where everything is liable to 
take an imaginary tint, and have carried my re- 
searches among the dust)* tomes of the old Jes- 
uits' Library, in the University. This once 
boasted repository of erudition is now a mere 
shadow of its former self, having been stripped 
of its manuscripts and rarest works by the French, 
when masters of Granada ; still it contains, among 
many ponderous tomes cf the Jesuit fathers, 
which the French were careful to leave behind, 
several curious tracts of Spanish literature ; and 
above all, a number of those antiquated parch- 
ment-bound chronicles for which I have a partic- 
ular veneration. 

In this old library I have passed many delight- 
ful hours of quiet, undisturbed, literary foraging ; 
for the keys of the doors and bookcases were 
kindly intrusted to me, and I was left alone, to 



90 



THE JESUITS LIBRARY. 



rummage at my pleasure, — a rare iudulgence in 
these sanctuaries of learning, which too often 
tantalize the thirsty student with the sight of 
sealed fountains of knowledge. 

In the course of these visits I gleaned a vari 
ely of facts concerning historical characters con- 
nected with the Alhambra, some of which I here 
subjoin, trusting they may prove acceptable to 
the reader. 




ALHAMAR, 



THE FOUNDER OF THE 
ALHAMBRA. 




[IE Moors of Granada regarded the Al- 
hambra as a miracle of art, and had a 
tradition that the king who founded it 
deah in aiagic, or at least in alchemy, bj means 
whercol he procured the immense sums of gold 
expended in its erection. A brief view of his 
reign will show the secret of his wealth. He is 
known in Arabian history as Muhamed Ibn-1- 
Ahmar ; but his name in general is wiitten sim- 
ply Alhamar, and was given to him, we are told, 
on account of his ruddy complexion.* 

He was of the noble and opulent line of the 
Beni Nasar, or tiibe of Nasar, and was born in 
Arjona, in the j'^ear of tlie Hegira 592 (a. d. 
llDo). At his bu'th the astrologers, we are told, 
cast his horoscope according to Oriental custom, 
and pronounced it higldy auspicious; and a san- 
ton predicted for him a glorious career. No ex- 
pjnse was spared in fitting him for tlie high 



* Et porque era inuy ruljio llamaban lu Ins Moros Abenal- 
hainar, que quiere (lecir bcniic'jo .... ct |ior<|iie los ISIoros lo 
llamaban Ijeiialliaiiiar (pic iniiLTe ilccir boniiejo tomo los sefia- 
les bermujo.s, soj^iin ^ (lue los ovitTon ilespues los lieyes de 
Granada. — Uledx' Cr<>,u, ,i ,/e Al/ni/s<> XI., V. I. C U. 



92 ALII A MAR. 

destinies prognosticated. Before he attained the 
full years of manhood, the famous battle of the 
Navas (or plains) of Tolosa shattered the Moor- 
ish empire, and eventually severed the Moslems 
of Spain from the Moslems of Africa. Factions 
soon arose among the former, headed by warlike 
chiefs ambitious of grasping the sovereignty of 
the Peninsula. Alhamar became engaged in 
these wars ; he was the general and leader of 
the Beni Nasar, and, as such, he opposed and 
thwarted the ambition of Aben Hud, who had 
raised his standard among the warlike mountains 
of the Alpuxaras, and been proclaimed king of 
Murcia and Granada. Many conflicts took place 
between these warring chieftains ; Alhamar dis- 
possessed his rival of several important places, 
and was proclaimed king of Jaen by his soldiery ; 
but he aspired to the sovereignty of the whole of 
Andalusia, for he was of a sanguine spirit and 
lofty ambition. His valor and generosity went 
hand in hand ; what he gained by the one he 
secured by the other ; and at the death of Aben 
Hud (a. d. 1238) he became sovereign of all the 
territories which owed allegiance to that powerful 
chief. He made his formal entry into Granada 
in the same year, amid the enthusiastic shouts 
of the multitude, who hailed him as the only one 
capable of uniting the various factions which pre- 
vailed, and which thre£ftened to lay the empire al 
the mercy of the Christian princes. 

Alhamar established his court in Granada ; he 
was the first of the illustrious line of Nasar that 
sat upon a throne. He took iminediate measure^' 



ALHAMAR. 93 

to put his little kingdom in a posture of defence 
against the assaults to be expected from his 
Christian neighbors, repairing and strengthen- 
ing the frontier posts and fortifying the capital. 
Not content with the provisions of the Moslem 
law, by which every man is made a soldier, he 
raised a regular army to garrison his strong- 
holds, allowing every soldier stationed on the 
frontier a portion of land for the support of him- 
self, his horse, and his family, — thus interesting 
him in the defence of the soil in which he had a 
property. These wise precautions were justified 
by events. The Christians, profiting by the dis- 
memberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly 
regaining their ancient territories. James the 
Conqueror had subjected all Valencia, and Fer- 
dinand the Saint sat down in person before Jaen, 
the bulwark of Granada. Alhamar ventured to 
oppose him in open field, but met with a signal 
defeat, and retired discomfited to his capital. 
Jaen still held out, and kept the enemy at bay 
during an entire winter, but Ferdinand swore not 
to raise his camp until he had gained possession 
of the place. Alhamar found it impossible to 
throw reinforcements into the besieged city ; he 
saw that its fall must be followed by the invest- 
ment of his capital, and was conscious of the 
insufficiency of his means to cope with the potent 
sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolution, 
therefore, he repaired privately to the Christian 
(!amp, made his unexpected appearance in the 
presence of King Ferdinand, and frankly an- 
nounced himself as the kino; of Granada. " I 



94 ALHAMAR. 

come," said he, " confiding in your good faith, tc 
put myself* under ,your protection. Take all I 
possess and receive me as your vassal ; " so say- 
ing, he knelt and kissed the king's hand in token 
of allegiance. 

Ferdinand was won by this instance of confid- 
ing faith, and determined not to be outdone in 
generosity. He raised his late enemy from the 
earth, embraced him as a friend, and, refusing the 
wealth he offered, left him sovereign of his domin- 
ions, under the feudal tenure of a yearly tribute, 
attendance at the Cortes as one of the nobles of 
the empire, and service in war with a certain 
number of horsemen. He moreover conferred 
on him the honor of knighthood, and armed him 
with his own hands. 

It was not long after this that Alhamar was 
called upon for his military services, to aid King 
Ferdinand in his famous siege of Seville. The 
Moorish king sallied forth with five hundred 
chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom none in 
the world knew better how to manage the steed 
or wield the lance. It was a humiliating service, 
however, for they had to draw the sword against 
their brethren of the faith. 

Alhamar gained a melancholy distinction by 
his prowess in this renowned conquest, but more 
true honor by the humanity which he prevailed 
upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages of 
war. When in 1248 the famous city of Seville 
surrendered to the Castilian monarch, Alhamar 
returned sad and full of care to his dominions. 
He saw the jratherinsr ills that menaced the Mos- 



ALRAMAR. 95 

lem cause ; and uttered an ejaculation often used 
by liiui in moments of anxiety and trouble, — • 
"How straitened and Avi-etched would be our life, 
if our hope were not so spacious and extensive." 
'' Que angoste y niiserabile seria nuestra vida, sino 
fueratan dilatada y espaclosa nuestra esperanza ! " 

As he approached Granada on his return lie 
belield arclies of triumph which had been erected 
in honor of his martial exploits. The people 
thronged forth to see him with impatient joy, for 
his benignant nde hjid won all hearts. Wher- 
ever he passed he was hailed with acclamations as 
" El Ghalib ! " (the coiuiueror). Alhamar gave 
a melancholy shake of the liead on hearing the 
appellation. " Wa le ghalib He Aldh I " (there is 
no conqueror but God) exclaimed he. From 
that time forward this exclamation became his 
motto, and the motto of his descendants, and ap- 
pears to this day emblazoned on his escutcheons 
in the halls of the Alhambra. 

Alhamar had purchased peace by submission 
to the Christian yoke ; but he was conscious that, 
with elements so discordant and motives for hos- 
tility so deep and ancient, it could not be per- 
manent. Acting, therefore, upon the old maxim, 
" Arm thyself in peace and clothe thyself in sum- 
mer," he improved the present interval of tran- 
quillity by fortifying his dominions, replenishing 
his arsenals, and promoting those useful arts 
which give wealth and real power. He conhded 
the command of his various cities to such as had 
distinguished themselves by valor and prudence, 
and who seemed most acceptable to the people, 



96 ALHAMAK. 

He organized a vigilant police, and established 
rio-id rules for the administration of justice. The 
poor and the distressed always found ready ad- 
mission to his presence, and he attended person- 
ally to their assistance and redress. He erected 
hoi^pitals for the blind, the aged, and infirm, and 
all those incapable of labor, and visited them fre- 
quently ; not on set days with pomp and form, so 
as to give time for everything to be put in order, 
and every abuse concealed, but suddenly, and 
unexpectedly, informing himself, by actual obser- 
vation and close inquiry, of the treatment of the 
sick, and the conduct of those appointed to ad- 
minister to their relief. He founded schools and 
colleges, which he visited in the same manner, 
inspecting personally the instruction of the youth. 
He established butcheries and public ovens, that 
the people might be furnished with wholesome 
provisions at just and regular prices. He intro- 
duced abundant streams of water into the city, 
erecting baths and fountains, and constructing 
aqueducts and canals to irrigate and fertilize the 
Vega. By these means prosperity and abun- 
dance prevailed in this beautiful city; its gates 
were thronged with commerce, and its warehouses 
filled witli luxuries and merchandise of every 
clime and country. 

He moreover gave premiums and privileges to 
the best artisans ; improved the breed of horses 
and other domestic animals ; encouraged hus- 
bandry ; and increased the natural fertility of the 
soil twofold by his protection, making the lovely 
valleys of his kingdom to bloom like gardens. 



ALHAMAR. 97 

He fostered also the growth and fabrication of silk, 
until the looms of Granada surpassed even those 
of Syria in the fineness and beauty of their pro- 
ductions. He moreover caused the mines of 
gold and silver and other metals, found in the 
mountainous regions of his dominions, to be dili- 
gently worked, and was the first king of Granada 
who struck money of gold and silver with his 
niune, taking great care that the coins should be 
skilfully executed. 

It was towards the middle of the thirteenth 
century, and just after his return from the siege 
of Seville, that he commenced the splendid palace 
of the Alhambra ; superintending the building 
of it in person ; mingling frequently among the 
artists and workmen, and directing their labors. 

Though thus magnificent in his works and 
great in his enterprises, he was simple in his 
person and moderate in his enjoyments. His 
dress was not merely void of splendor, but so 
plain as not to distinguish him from his subjects. 
His harem boasted but few beauties, and these 
he visited but seldom, though they were enter- 
tained with great magnificence. His Avives were 
daughters of the principal nobles, and were treated 
by him as friends and rational companions. What 
is more, he managed to make them live in friend- 
ship with one another. He passed much of his 
time in his gardens ; especially in those of the 
Alhambra, which he had stored with the rarest 
plants and the most beautiful and aromatic flow- 
ers. Here he delighted himself in reading his- 
tories, or in causing them to be read and related 

7 



98 ALflAMAR. 

to him, and sometimes, in intervals of leisure, em- 
ployed himself in the instruction of his three 
sons, for whom he had provided the most learned 
and virtuous masters. 

As he had frankly and voluntarily offered him- 
self a tributary vassal to Ferdinand, so he always 
remained loyal to his word, giving him repeated 
proofs of fidelity and attachment. When tiiat 
renowned monarch died in Seville in 1254, Al- 
liamar sent ambassadors to condole with his suc- 
cessor, Alonzo X., and with them a gallant train 
of a hundred Moorish cavaliers of distinguished 
rank, who were to attend round the royal bier 
during the funeral ceremonies, each bearing a 
lighted taper. This grand testimonial of respect 
was repeated by the Moslem monarch during the 
remainder of his life on each anniversaiy of the 
death of King Ferdinand el Santo, when the 
hundred Moorish knights repaired from Granada 
to Seville, and took their stations with lighted 
tapers in the centre of the sumptuous cathedral 
round the cenotaph of the illustrious deceased. 

Alhamar retained his faculties and vigor to an 
advanced age. In his seventy-ninth year (a. d. 
1272) he took tlie field on horseback, accompa- 
nied by the llower of his chivalry, to resist an 
invasion of his territories. As the army sallied 
forth from Granada, one of the principal adalides, 
or guides, who rode in the advance, accidentally 
broke his lance against the arch of the gate. 
The counsellors of the king, alarmed by this cir- 
cumstance, which was considered an evil omen, 
entreated him to return. Their supplications 



ALHAMAR. 99 

wvvc in vain. The king persisted, and at noon- 
tide the omen, say the Moorish chroniclers, was 
fatally fultilled. Alharaar was suddenly struck 
with illness, and had nearly fallen from his horse. 
He was placed on a litter, and borne back to- 
wards Granada, but his illness increased to such 
a degree that they were obliged to pitch his tent 
in the Vega. His physicians were fdled with 
consternation, not knowing what remedy to pre- 
scribe. In a few hours he died, vomiting blood 
and in violent convulsions. The Castilian prince, 
Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., was by his 
side when he expired. His body was embalmed, 
enclosed in a silver coffin, and buried in the Al- 
hambra in a sepulchre of precious marble, amidst 
the unfeigned lamentations of his subjects, who 
bewailed him as a parent. 

I have said that he was the first of the illus- 
trious line of Nasar that sat upon a throne. I 
may add that he was the founder of a brilliant 
kingdom which will ever be famous in history 
and romance as the last rallying-place of Mos- 
lem power and splendor in the Peninsula. Though 
his undertakings were vast, and his expenditures 
immense, yet his treasury was always full ; and 
this seeming contradiction gave rise to the story 
that he was versed in magic art, and possessed 
of the secret for transmuting baser metals into 
gold. Those who have attended to his domestic 
policy, as here set forth, will easily understand 
the natural magic and simple alchemy which made 
his ample treasury to overflow. 




YUSEF ABUL HAGIG, 

THE FINISHER OF THE ALUAMBRA 

3 the foregoing particulars, concerning 
the Moslem princes who once reigned 
in these halls, I shall add a brief notice 
of the monarch who completed and embellished 
the Alhambra. Yusef Abul Hagig (or, as it is 
sometimes written, Haxis) was another prince of 
the noble line of Nasar. He ascended the throne 
of Granada in the year of grace 1333, and is 
described by Moslem writers as having a noble 
presence, great bodily strength, and^ a fair com- 
plexion ; and the majesty of his countenance in- 
creased, say they, by suffering his beard to grow 
to a dignified length and dyeing it black. His 
manners were gentle, affable, and urbane ; he 
carried the benignity of his nature into warfare, 
prohibiting all wanton cruelty, an-d enjoining 
mercy and protection towards women and children, 
the aged and infirm, and all friars and other per- 
sons of holy and recluse life. But though he 
possessed the courage common to generous spir- 
its, the bent of his geiiius was more for peace than 
war, and though repeatedly obliged by circum- 
stances to take up arms, he was generally unfor 
tunate. 



YUSEF ABUL HAGIG. 10] 

Among other ill-starred enterprises, he un- 
dertook a great campaign, in conjunction wit? 
the king of Morocco, against the kings of 
Castile and Portugal, but was defeated in the 
memorable battle of Salado, which had nearly 
proved a death-blow to the Moslem power in 
Spain. 

Yusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, 
and now his character shone forth in its true lus- 
tre. He had an excellent memory, and had 
stored his mind with science and erudliion ; his 
taste was altogether elegant arid refined, and he 
was accounted the best poet of his time. Devot- 
ing himself to the iiistruction of his people and 
the improveinpiic of their morals and manners, 
he estr.blished schools in all the villages, with 
simple and uniform systems of education ; he 
obliged every hamlet of more than twelve houses 
to have a mosque, and purified the ceremonies of 
religion, and the festivals and popular amuse- 
ments, from various abuses and indecorums whick 
had crept into them. He attended vigilantly to 
the police of the city, establishing nocturnal guards 
and patrols, and superintending all municiprf 
concerns. His attention was also directed to 
wards finishing the great architectural works com 
menced by his predecessors, and erecting others 
on his own plans. The Alhambra, which haa 
been founded by the good Alhamar, was now 
completed. Yusef constructed the beautiful Gate 
hi Justice, forming the grand entrance to the for- 
tress, which he finished in 1348. He likewise 
adorned many of the courts and hails of the pal- 



102 YUSEF ABUL TIAGIG. 

ace, as may be seen by the inscriptions on the 
walls, in which his name repeatedly occurs. He 
built also the noble Alcazar or citadel of Malaga 
now unfortunately a mere mass of crumbling 
ruins, but which most probably exhibited in its 
Ulterior similar elegance and magniticence with 
the Alhambra. 

The genius of a sovereign stamps a character 
upon his time. The nobles of Granada, imitat- 
ing the elegant and graceful taste of Yusef, soon 
tilled the city of Granada with magnificent pal- 
aces ; the halls of which were paved with Mosaic, 
the walls and ceilings wrought in fretwork, and 
delicately gilded and painted with azure, vermilion, 
and other brilliant colors, or minutely inlaid with 
cedar and other precious woods; specimens of 
* which have survived, in all their lustre, the lapse 
of several centuries. Many of the houses had 
fountains, which threw up jets of water to refresh 
and cool the air. They had lofty towers also, of 
wood or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, 
and covered with plates of metal that glittered in 
the sun. Such was the refined and delicate taste 
in architecture that prevailed among this elegant 
people ; insomuch that, to use the beautiful simile 
of an Arabian writer, " Granada, in the days of 
Yusef, was as a silver vase filled with emeralds 
and jacinths." 

One anecdote will be sufficient to show the 
magnanimity of this generous prince. The long 
truce which had succeeded the battle of Salado 
was at an end, and every effort of Yusef to renew 
it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alfonzo XI. of 



TUSEF ABUL EAGIG. 103 

Castile, took tlie field with great force, and laid 
Biege to Gibraltar. Yusef reluctantly took np 
arms, and sent troops to the relief of the place. 
In the midst of his anxiety, he received tidings 
that his dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim 
to the plague. Instead of manifesting exultation 
on tlie occasion, Yusef called to mind the great 
qualities of the deceased, and Avas touched with 
a nol)le sorrow. " Alas ! " cried he, '' the world 
Inis lost one of its most excellent princes ; a sov- 
ereign who knew how to honor merit, whether in 
friend or foe ! " 

The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear wit- 
ness to this magnanimity. According to their 
accounts, the Moorish cavaliers partook of the 
sentiment of their king, and put on mourning for 
the death of Alfonzo. Even those of Gibraltar, 
who had been so closely invested, when they 
knew that the hostile monarch lay dead in his 
camp, determined among themselves that no hos- 
tile movement should be made against the Chris- 
tians. Tlie day on which the camp was broken 
up, and the army departed bearing the corpse of 
Alfonzo, the Moors issued in multitudes from 
Gibraltar, and stood mute and melancholy, watch- 
ing the mournful pageant. The same reverence 
for the deceased was observed by all the Moorish 
oommnnders u3n the frontiers, who suffered the 
funeral train to pass in safety, bearing the corpse 
of the Christian sovereign from Gibraltar to 
Seville.* 

* " Y los moros que estaban en la villa y Castillo de Gib- 
raltar despiies que sopieroii que el Key Don Alonzo era mu- 



104 TUSEF ABUL HAGIG. 

Yusef did not long survive the enemy he had 
80 generously deplored. In the year 1354, as he 
was one day praying in the royal mosque of the 
Alhambra, a maniac rushed suddenly from behind 
and plunged a dagger in his side. The cries 
of the king brought his guards and courtiers to 
his assistance. They found him weltering in his 
blood. He made some signs as if to speak, but 
his words were unintelligible. They bore him 
senseless to the royal apartments, where he ex- 
pired almost immediately. The murderer was 
cut to pieces, and his limbs burnt in public to 
gratify the fury of the populace. 

The body of the king was interred in a superb 
sepulchre of white marble ; a long epitaph, in 
letters of gold upon an azure ground, recorded 
his virtues. " Here lies a king and martyr, of 
an illustrious line, gentle, learned, and virtuous ; 
renowned lor the graces of his person and his 
manners ; whose clemency, piety, and benevolence 
were extolled throughout the kingdom of Gra- 
nada. He was a great prince ; an illustrious 
captain ; a sharp sword of the Moslems ; a val- 
iant standaixl-bearer among the most potent mon- 
archs," &c. 

The mosque still exists which once resounded 
with the dying cries of Yusef, but the monument 
which recorded his virtues has long since disap- 

=>.rto, ordenai'on entresi que ninguno noa fuesse osado de fazer 
tiingun moviinieiito contra los Christianos, ni mover pelear 
contra ellos, estovieron todos qucdos y dezian entre ellos 
qui aquel diamuriera un noble rey y Gran principe del 
mundo." 



YUSEF ABUL HAGIG. 



105 



peared. His name, however, remains inscribed 
nmong the delicate and graceful ornaments of 
the Alhambra, and will be perpetuated in connec- 
tion with this renowned pile, which it was hia 
pride and delight to beautify. 




THE MYSTERIOUS CHAiMBERS. 



S I was rambling one day about the 
Moorish halls, my attention was, for the 
first time, attracted to a door in a re- 
mote gallery, communicating apparently with some 
part of the Alhambra which I had not yet ex- 
plored. I attempted to open it, but it was locked. 
I knocked, but no one answered, and the sound 
seemed to reverberate through empty chambers. 
Here then was a mystery. Here was the 
haunted wing of the castle. How was I to 
get at the dai-k secrets hero shut up from the 
public eye ? Should I come privately at night 
with lamp and sword, according to the prying 
custom of heroes of romance ; or should I en- 
deavor to draw the secret from Pcpe the stutter- 
ing gardener ; or the ingenuous Dolores, or the 
loquacious JNIateo ? Or should I go frankly and 
openly to Dame Antonia the chatelaine, and ask 
her all about it ? I chose the latter course, as 
being the simplest though the least romantic ; 
and found, somewhat to my disappointment, that 
there was no mystery in the case. I was wel- 
come to explore the apartment, and there was 
the key. 



THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBERS. 107 

Thus provided, I returned forthwith to the door. 
It opemid, as I had surmised, to a range of va- 
cant chambers ; but they were quite different 
from the rest of the pahice. The architec- 
ture, though rich and antiquated, was European. 
There was nothing INIoorish about it. The first 
two rooms were lofty ; the ceilings, broken in 
many places, were of cedar, deeply panelled and 
skilfully carved with fruits and flowers, intermin- 
gled with grotesque masks or faces. 

The walls had evidently in ancient times been 
hung with damask ; but now were naked, and 
scrawled over by that class of aspiring travellers 
who defile noble monuments with their worthless 
names. The windows, dismantled and open to 
wind and weather, looked out into a charming 
little secluded garden, where an alabaster foun- 
tain sparkled among roses and myrtles, and was 
surrounded by orange and citron trees, some of 
which flung their branches into the chambers. 
Beyond these rooms were two saloons, longer 
but less lofty, looking also into the garden. In 
the compartments of the panelled ceilings were 
baskets of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted 
by no mean hand, and in tolerable preservation. 
The walls also had been painted in fresco in the 
Italian style, but the paintings were nearly 
obliterated ; the windows were in the same shat- 
tered state with those of the other chambers. 
This fanciful suite of rooms terminated in an 
open gallery with balustrades, running at right 
angles along another side of the garden. The 
■^vhole apartment, so delicate and elegant in its 



108 LINDARAXA. 

decorations, so choice and sequestered in its situ- 
ation along this retired little garden, and so differ- 
ent in architecture from the neighboring halls, 
awakened an interest in its history. 1 found on 
inquiry that it was an apartment fitted up by 
Italian artists in the early part of the last 
century, at the time when Philip V. and his 
second Avife, the beautiful Elizabetta of Farnese, 
daughter of the Duke of Parma, were expected 
at the Alhambra. It was destined for the queen 
and the ladies of her train. One of the loftiest 
chambers had been her sleeping-room. A nar- 
row staircase, now walled up, led up to a delight- 
ful belvidere, originally a mirador of the Moorish 
sultanas, communicathig with the harem ; but 
which was fitted up as a boudoir for the fair 
Elizabetta, and still retains the name of el tocador 
de la Reyaa, or the queen's toilette. 

One window of the royal sleeping-room com- 
manded a prospect of the Generalife and its em- 
bowered terraces ; another looked out into the 
little secluded garden I have mentioned, which 
was decidedly Moorish in its character, and also 
had its history. It was in fiict the garden of 
Lindaraxa, so 'Tten raentioned in descriptions of 
the Alhambra , but who this Lindaraxa was I 
had never heard explained. A little research 
gave me the few particulars known about her. 
She was a Moorish beauty who flourished iu the 
courl of Muhamed the Left-Handed, and was 
the daughter of his loyal adherent, the alcayde 
of Malaga, who sheltered him in his city when 
•kiveu from the throne. On regaining his crown. 



LINDARAXA. 109 

the alcayde was rewarded for his fidelity. His 
daughter had her apartment in the Alhambra, 
and was given by the king in marriage to 
Nasar, a yoimg Cetim^rien prince descended 
from Aben Hud the Just. Their espousals were 
doubtless celebrated iii the royal palace, and their 
lioneymoon may have passed among these very 
bowers.* 

Four centuries had elapsed since the fair 
Lindaraxa passed away, yet how much of the 
fragile beauty of the scenes she inhabited re- 
mained ! Tiie garden still bloomed in which she 
delighted ; the fountain still presented the crystal 
mirror in which her charms may once have been 
reflected ; the alabaster, it is true, had lost its 
wliiteness ; the basin beneath, overrun with weeds, 
had become the lurking-place of the lizard, but 
there was something in the very decay that en 
hanced the interest of the scene, speaking as it 
did of that mutability, the irrevocable lot of man 
and all liis works. 

The desolation too of these chambers, once the 
abode of the proud and elegant Elizabetta, had a 
more touching charm for me than if I had be 

* Una de las cosas en que tienen precisa intervencion los 
Reyes Moros as en el matrimonio de sus grandes: de aqui 
nace que todos los senores llegadas a la persona real si casan 
en p ilacio, y siempre huvo su quarto destinado para esta cere- 
mouia. 

One of the things in which the IMoorish kings interfered 
was in the marriage of their nobles: hence it came that all 
the sefiors attached to the royal person were married in the 
palace ; and there was always a chamber destined for the cere- 
jaony. — Paseospor Granada, Paseo XXI. 



110 CHANGE OF QUARTERS. 

held them In their pristine splendor, glittering 
with the pageantry of a court. 

When I returned to my quartei's, in the gov- 
ernor's apartment, everything seemed tame and 
commonplace after the poetic region I had left. 
The thought suggested itself : Why could I not 
change my quarters to these vacant chambers? 
that would indeed be living in the Alhambra, sur- 
rounded by its gardens and fountains, as in the 
time of the Moorish sovereigns. I proposed the 
change to Dame Antoma and her family, and it 
occasioned vast surprise. They could not con- 
ceive any rational inducement for the choice of 
an apartment so forlorn, remote, and solitary 
Dolores exclaimed at its frightful loneliness ; 
nothing but bats and owls flitting about, — and 
then a fox and wildcat kept in the vaults of the 
neighboring baths, and roamed about at night. 
The good Tia had more reasonable objections. 
The neighborhood was infested by vagrants ; 
gipsies swarmed in the caverns of the adjacent 
hills ; the palace was ruinous and easy to be 
entered in many places ; the rumor of a stranger 
quartered alone in one of the remote and ruined 
apartments, out of the hearing of the rest of the 
inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome visitors in 
the night, especially as foreigners were always 
supposed to be well stocked with money. I was 
not to be diverted from my humor, however, and 
my will was law v/ith these good people. So, 
Ciilling in the assistance of a carpenter, and the 
ever officious Mateo Ximenes, the doors and win- 
dows were soon placed in a state of tolerable 



rilE FIRST sicnT. Ill 

Becurity, and the sleeping-room of the stately 
Elizabetta prepared for my reception. Mateo 
kindly volunteered as a body-gnai-d to sleep in 
my antechamber ; but I did not tiiink it worth 
while to put his valor to the proof. 

With all the hardihood I had assumed and all 
the precautions I had taken, I must confess (lie 
tirst night passed in these quai-ters was inexpres- 
sibly dreary. I do not think it was so much the 
apprehension of dangers from without that af- 
fected me, as the character of the place itself, with 
all its strange associations : the deeds of violence 
committed there ; the tragical ends of many of 
those who had once reigned there in splendor. 
As I passed beneath the fated halls of the tower 
of Comares on the way to my chamber, I called 
to mind a quotation, that used to thrill me in 
tlie days of boyhood : 

" Fate sits on these dcark battlements and fro-\vns; 
And, as the portal opens to receive me, 
A voice in sullen echoes through the courts 
Tells of a nameless deed! " 

The wdiole familj^ escorted me to my chamber, 
and took leave of me as of one engaged on a per- 
ilous enterprise ; and when I heard their retreat- 
ing steps die away along the waste antechambers 
and echoing galleries ; and turned the key of my 
door, I Avas reminded of those hobgoblin stoi-ie?, 
where the hero is left to accomplish the adven- 
ture of an enchanted house. 

Even tiie thoughts of the fair Elizabetta and 
the beauties of her court, who had once graced 
ihese chambers, now, by a perversion of fancy. 



112 FANCIES OF THE NIGHT. 

added to the gloom. Here was the scene of 
their transient gayety and loveliness ; here were 
[he very traces of their elegance and enjoyment ; 
out what and where were they ? Dust and 
ashes ! tenants of the tomb ! phantoms of the 
memory ! 

A vague and indescribable awe was creeping 
over me. I would fain have ascribed it to the 
thoughts of robbers awakened by the evening's 
conversation, but I felt it was something more 
unreal and absurd. The long-buried superstitions 
of the nursery were reviving, and asserting their 
power over my imagination. Everytldng began 
to be alfected by the working of my mind. The 
whispering of the wind among the citron-trees 
beneath my window bad something sinister. 1 
cast my eyes into the garden of Lindaraxa ; the 
groves presented a gulf of shadows ; the thickets, 
indistinct and gljastly sliapes. 1 was glad to 
close the window, but my chamber itself became 
infected. There was a slioht rustling noise over- 
head ; a bat suddenly emei-ged from a broken 
panel of the ceiling, flitting about the room and 
athwart my solitary lamp ; and as the fateful bird 
almost flouted my face with his noiseless wing, 
the grotesque faces carved in high relief in the 
cedar celling, whence he had emerged, seemed to 
mope and mow at me. 

Rousing myself, and half smiling at this tem- 
porary weakness, I resolved t'o brave it out in 
the true spirit of the hero of the enchanted 
house ; so, taking lamp in hand, I sallied forth to 
make a tour of the palace. Notwithstanding 



NIGHT-WALKING. 113 

every mental exertion the task was a severe one. 
I had to traverse waste halls and mysterious gal- 
leries, where tlie rays of the lamp extended but 
a short distance around me. I walked, as it 
were, in a mere halo of light, walled in by im- 
penetrable darkness. The vaulted corridors were 
a^ caverns; the ceilings of the halls were lost in 
gloom. I r^alled all that had been said of the 
danger from interlopers in these remote and 
ruined apartments. Might not some vagrant foe 
be lurkino- before or behind me, in the outer 
darkness ? My own shadow, cast upon the wall, 
began to disturb me. The echoes of my own 
footsteps along the corridors made me pause and 
look round. I was traversing scenes fraught 
with dismal recollections. One dark passage led 
down to the mosque where Yusef, the Moorish 
monarch, the finisher of the Alhambra, had been 
basely murdered. In another place I trod the 
gallery where another monarch had been struck 
down by the poniard of a relative whom he had 
thwarted in his love. 

A low nuu'muring sound, as of stifled voices 
and clanking chains, now reached me. It seemed 
to come from the Hall of the Abencerrages. 
I knew it to be the rush of water through subter- 
ranean channels, but it sounded strangely in the 
night, and reminded me of the dismal stories to 
which it had given rise. 

Soon, however, my ear was assailed by sounds 

too fearfully real to be the work of fancy. As 

I was crossing the Hall of Ambassadors, low 

moans and broken ejaculations rose, as it were, 

8 



114 THE DISENCHANTMENT OF DAYLTGffT. 

from beneath my feet. I panned and listened. 
They then appeared to be outside of the towet 
— then again within. Then broke forth howl- 
inrrs as of an animal — then stifled shrieks and 
inarticulate ravings. Heard in that dead hour 
and singular place, the effect was thrilling. I 
had no desire for further perambulation ; but re- 
turned to my chamber with infinitely more alac- 
rity than J had sallied forth, and drew my breath 
more freely when once more within its walls and 
the door bolted behind me. When I awoke in 
the morning, with the sun shining in at my window 
and lighting up every part of the building with his 
cheerful and truth-telling beams, I could scarcely 
recall the shadows and fancies conjured up by the 
gloom of the preceding night ; or believe that tho 
.scenes around me, so naked and apparent, could 
have been clothed with such imaginary horrors. 

Still, the dismal bowlings and ejaculations I 
had heard were not ideal ; they were soon ac- 
counted for, however, by my handmaid Dolores : 
being the ravings of a poor maniac, a brother of 
her aunt, Avho was subject to violent paroxysms, 
during which he was confined in a vaulted room 
beneath the Hall of Ambassadors. 

In the course of a few evenings a thorough 
change took place in the scene and its associations. 
The moon, which when I took possession of my 
new apartments was invisible, gradually gained 
each evening upon the darkness of the night, and 
at length rolled in full splendor above the towers, 
pouring a flood of tempered light into evtry cour. 
and hall. The garden beneath my window, be 



THE ALTIAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 115 

fore ^^'rapped in gloom, was gently lighted up , 
the orange and citron trees were tipped with 
silver ; tlie fountain sparkled in the moonbeams 
and even the blush of the rose was faintly visible. 

I now felt the poetic merit of the Arabic in- 
scription on the walls, — " How beauteous is this 
garden ; where the flowers of the earth vie with 
the stars of heaven. What can compare with 
the vase of yon alabaster fountain filled with 
crystal water ? nothing but the moon in her 
fulness, shining in the midst of an unclouded 
sky!" 

On such heavenly nights I would sit for hours 
at my window inhaling the sweetness of the gar- 
den, and musing on the checkered fortunes of 
those whose history was dimly shadowed out in 
the elegant memorials around. Sometimes, when 
all was quiet, and the clock from the distant ca- 
thedral of Granada struck the midnight hour, I 
have sallied out on another tour and wandered 
over the whole building ; but how different from 
my first tour ! No longer dark and mysterious ; 
no longer peopled with shadowy foes ; no longer 
recalling scenes of violence and murdor ; all was 
open, spacious, beautiful ; everything called up 
pleasing and romantic fancies ; Lindaraxa once 
more walked in her garden ; the gay chivalry of 
Moslem Granada once more glittered about the 
Court of Lions ! Who can do justice to a moon- 
Mght night in such a climate and such a place ? 
The temperature of a summer midnight in An- 
dalusia is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up 
into a purer atmosphere ; we feel a serenity of 



116 THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 

• 
Boul, a buoyancy of spirits, an elasticity of 
frame, which render mere existence happiness. 
But when moonlight is added to all this, the 
effect is like enchantment. Under its plastic 
sway the Alhambra seems to regain its pristine 
glories. Every rent and chasm of time ; every 
mouldering tint and weather-stain is gone ; the 
marble resumes its original whiteness ; the long 
colonnades brighten in the moonbeams ; the halls 
are illuminated with a softened radiance, — we 
tread the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale ! 

What a delight, at such a time, to ascend to 
tlie little airy pavilion of the queen's toilet 
(el tocador de la reyna), which, like a bird-cage, 
overhangs tlie valley of the Darro, and gaze from 
its light arcades upon the moonlight prospect ! 
To the right, the swelling mountains of the 
Sierra Nevada, robbed of their ruggedness and 
softened into a fairy land, with their snowy sum- 
raits gleaming like silver clouds against the deep 
blue sky. And then to lean over the parapet of 
the Tocador and gaze down upon Granada and 
the Albaycin spread out like a map below ; all 
buried in deep repose ; the white palaces and con- 
vents sleeping in the moonshine, and beyond all 
these the vapory Vega fading away like a dream- 
land in the distance. 

Sometimes the faint click of castanets rise 
from the Alameda, where some gay Andalusians 
are dancing away the summer night. Sometimes 
the dubious tones of a guitar and the notes of 
tin amoious voice, tell perchance the whereabout 
of some moonstruck lover serenading his lady's 
n'indow. 



THE ALHAMBRA By MOONLIGHT. 117 

Such is a faint picture of the moonlight nighta 
1 have passed loitering about the courts and halls 
and balconies of this most suggestive pile ; " feed- 
ing my fancy with sugared suppositions," and en- 
join ng that mixture of reverie and sensation 
which steal away existence in a southern climate ; 
so that it has been almost morning before I have 
retired to bed, and been lulled to sleep by the fall- 
ing waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. 




PANORAMA FROM THE TOWER OF 
COMARES. 




T is a serene and beautiful morning : the 
sun has not gained sufficient power to 
destroy the freshness of the night. 
What a morning to mount to the summit of the 
Tower of Comares, and take a bird's-eye view of 
Granada and its environs ! 

Come then, worthy reader and comrade, follow 
my steps into this vestibule, ornamented with 
rich tracery, which opens into the Hall of Am- 
bassadors, We will not enter the hall, however, 
but turn to this small door opening into the wall. 
Have a care ! here are steep winding steps and 
but scanty light ; yet up this narrow, obscure, and 
spiral staircase, the proud monarchs of Granada 
and their queens have often ascended to the bat- 
tlements to watch the approach of invading ar- 
mies, or gaze with anxious hearts on the battles in 
the Vega. 

At length we have reached the terraced roof, 
and may take breath for a moment, while we 
east a general eye over the splendid panorama of 
city and country ; of rocky mountain, verdant 
valley, and fertile plain ; of castle, cathedral, 



THE VALLEY OF THE DARRO. 119 

Moorish towers, and Gothic domes, crumbling 
ruins, and blooming groves. Let us approach the 
battlements, and cast our eyes immediately below 
Sec, on this side we have the whole plain of the 
Alhambra laid open to us, and can look down 
into its courts and gardens. At the foot of the 
tower is the Court of the Alberca, with its great 
tank or fishpool, bordered with flowers ; and yon- 
der is the Court of Lions, witii its famous foun- 
tain, and its light Moorish arcades ; and in the 
centre of the pile is the little garden of Linda- 
raxa, buried in the heart of the building, with 
its roses and citrons and shrubbery of emerald 
green. 

That belt of battlements, studded with square 
towers, strafrgling round the whole brow of the 
hill, is the outer boundary of the fortress. Some 
of the towers, you may perceive, are in ruins, and 
their massive fragments buried among vines, fig- 
trees, and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. 
It is a giddy height ; the very foundations of the 
tower rise above the groves of the steep hill-side. 
And see ! a long fissure in the massive walls 
shows that the tower has been rent by some of 
the earthquakes which from time to time have 
thrown Granada into consternation ; and which, 
sooner or later, must reduce this crumbling pile 
to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow glen 
below us, which gradually widens as it opens 
Trom the mountains, is the valley of the Darro ; 
you see the little river winding its way under 
embowered terraces, and among orchards and 



120 THE GENERALIFE. 

flower-gardens. It is a stream famous in old 
times for yielding gold, and its sands are still 
sifted occasionally, in search of the precious ore. 
Some of those white pavilions, which here and 
there gleam from among groves and vineyards, 
were rustic retreats of the Moors, to enjoy the 
refreshment of their gardens. Well have they 
been compared by one of their poets to so many 
pearls set in a bed of emeralds. 

The airy palace, with its tall white towers and 
long arcades, which breasts yon mountain, among 
pompous groves and hanging gardens, is the Gen- 
eralife, a summer palace of the Moorish kings, 
to which they resorted during the sultry months 
to enjoy a still more breezy region than that of 
the Alhambra. The naked summit of the height 
above it, where you behold some shapeless ruins, 
is the Silla del Moro, or seat of the Moor, so 
called from having been a retreat of the unfor- 
tunate Boabdil during the time of an insurrec- 
tion, where he seated himself, and looked down 
mournfully upon his rebellious city. 

A murmuring sound of water now and then 
rises from the valley. It is from the aqueduct 
of yon Moorish mill, nearly at the foot of the 
hill. The avenue of trees beyond is the Ala« 
meda, along the bank of the Darro, a favorite 
resort in evenings, and a rendezvous of lovers in 
the summer nights, when the guitar may be heard 
at a late hour from the benches along its walks. 
At present you see none but a lew loitering 
monks there, and a group of water-carriers. The 
latter are burdened with water -jars of ancient 



THE SIERRA NEVADA. 121 

Oriental construction, such as were used bj the 
Moors. They have been filled at the cold and 
limpid spring called the fountain of Avellanos. 
Yon mountain path leads to the fountain, a favor- 
ite resort of Moslems as well as Christians ; for 
this is said to be the Adinamar ( Aynu-1-adamar) , 
the '• Fountain of Tears," mentioned by Ibn 
Batuta the traveller, and celebrated in the his- 
tories and romances of the Moors. 

You start ! 't is nothing but a hawk that we 
have frightened from his nest. This old tower 
is a complete breeding-place for vagrant birds ; 
the swallow and martlet abound in every chink 
and cranny, and circle about it the whole day 
long ; while at night, when all other birds have 
gone to rest, the moping owl comes out of its 
lurking-place, and utters its boding cry from the 
battlements. See how the hawk we have dis- 
lodged sweeps away below us, skimming over 
the tops of the trees, and sailing up to the ruins 
above the Generalife ! 

I see you raise your eyes to the snowy sum 
mit of yon pile of mountains, shining like a white 
summer cloud in the blue sky. It is the Sierra 
Nevada, the pride and delight of Granada ; the 
source of her cooling breezes and perpetual verd- 
ure ; of her gushing fountains and perennial 
streams. It is this glorious pile of mountains 
which gives to Granada that combination of de- 
lights so rare in a southern city, — the fresh vege- 
tation and temperate airs of a northern climate, 
with the vivifying ardor of a tropical sun, and 
the cloudless azure of a southern sky. It is this 



122 THE VEGA. 

aerial treasury of snow, which, meltinir in pro- 
portion to the increase of the summer heat, sends 
down rivulets and streams through every glen 
an'd gorge of the Alpuxarras, diffusing emerald 
verdure and fertility throughout a chain of happy 
and sequestered valleys. 

Those mountains may be well called the glory 
of Granada. They dominate the whole extent 
of Andalusia, and may be seen from its most dis- 
tant parts. The muleteer hails them, as he views 
their frosty peaks from the sultry level of the 
plain ; and the Spanish mariner on the deck of 
his bark, far, far off on the bosom of the blue 
Mediterranean, watches them with a pensive eye, 
thinks of delightful Granada, and chants, in low 
voice, some old romance about the Moors. 

See to the south at the foot of those mountains 
a line of arid hills, down which a long train of 
mules is slowlv movinof. Here was the closincj 
scene of Moslem domination. From the summit 
of one of those hills the unfortunate Boabdil 
cast back his last look upon Granada, and gave 
vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot 
famous in song and story, *• The last sigh of the 
Moor.'' 

Further this way these arid hills slope down 
into the luxurious Vega, from which he had just 
emerged : a blooming wilderness of grove and 
garden, and teeming orchard, with the Xenil 
winding through it in silver links, and feeding 
innumerable rills ; which, conducted through an- 
cient Moorish channels, maintain the landscape 
in perpetual verdure. Here were the beloved 



SANTA FE. 123 

bowers and gardens, and rural pavilions, for 
vvhieh the unfortunate Moors fought with such 
desperate valor. The very hovels and rude 
granges, liow inhabited by boors, show, by the 
remains of arabesques and other tasteful decora- 
tion, that they were elegant residences in the 
days of the Moslems. Behold, in the very cen- 
tre of this eventful plain, a place which in a 
manner links the history of the Old World 
with that of the New. Yon line of walls and 
towers gleaming in the morning sun, is the city 
of Santa Fe, built by the Catholic sovereigns 
during the siege of Granada, after a conflagration 
had destroyed their camp. It was to these walls 
Columbus was called back by the heroic queen, 
and within them the treaty was concluded which 
led to the discovery of the Western World. 
Behind yon promontory to the west is the bridge 
of Finos, renowned for many a bloody fight be- 
tween Moors and Christians. At this bridge the 
messenger overtook Columbus when, despairing 
of success with the Spanish sovereigns, he w\^s 
departing to carry his project of discovery to the 
court of France. 

Above the bridge a range of moimtains bounds 
the Vega to the west, — the ancient barrier be- 
tween Granada and the Christian territories. 
Among their heights you may still discern war- 
rior towns ; their gray walls and battlements 
seeming of a piece witii the rocks on which they 
are built. Here and there a solitary atalaya, or 
watchtower, perched on a mountain peak, looks 
down as it were from tlie sky into the valley od 



124 ISMAEL BEN F ERR AG. 

either side. How often have these atalayas given 
notice, by fire at night or smoke by day, of an 
approaching foe ! It was down a cragged defile 
of these mountains, called the Pass of Lope, that 
the Christian armies descended into the Vega. 
Round the base of yon gray and naked moun- 
tain (the mountain of Elvira), stretching its 
bold rocky promontory into the bosom of the 
plain, the invading squadrons woidd come burst- 
ing into view, with flaunting banners and clangor 
of drum and trumpet. 

Five hundred years have elapsed since Ismael 
ben Ferrag, a Moorish king of Granada, beheld 
from this very tower an invasion of the kind, 
and an insulting ravage of the Vega; on which 
occasion he displayed an instance of chivalrous 
magnanimity, often witnessed in the Moslem 
princes ; " whose history," says an Arabian writer, 
" abounds in generous actions and noble deeds 
that will last through all succeeding ages, and 
live forever in the memory of man." — But let 
us sit down on this parapet, and I will relate the 
anecdote. 

It was in the year of Grace 1319, that Ismael 
ben Ferrag beheld from this tower a Christian 
camp whitening the skirts of yon mountain of 
Elvira. The royal princes, Don Juan and Don 
Pedro, regents of Castile during the minority of 
Alfonso XI., had already laid waste the countr;^ 
from Alcaudete to Alcala la Real, capturing the 
castle of Illora and setting fire to its suburbs, and 
they now carried their insulting ravages to the 
very gates of Granada, defying the king to sallj^ 
forth and give them battle. 



ISM A EL BEi\ F EUR AG. 125 

Ismael, though a young and intrepid prince, 
hesitated to accept the challenge. He had not 
sufficient force at hand, and awaited the arrival 
of troops summoned from the neighboring toAvns. 
Tlie Christian princes, mistaking his motives, 
gave up all hope of drawing him forth, and hav- 
ing glutted themselves with ravage, struck their 
tents and began their homeward march. Don 
Pedro led the van, and Don Juan brought up 
the rear, but their march was confused and irreg- 
ular, the army being greatly encumbered by the 
spoils and captives they had taken. 

By this time King Ismael had received his 
expected resources, and putting them under the 
command of Osmyn, one of the bravest of his 
generals, sent them forth in hot pursuit of the 
enemy. The Christians were overtaken in the 
defiles of the mountains. A panic seized them ; 
they were completely routed, and driven with 
great slaughter across the borders. Both of the 
princes lost their lives. The body of Don Pedro 
was carried off by his soldiers, but that of Don 
Juan was lost in the darkness of the night. His 
son wrote to the Moorish king, entreating that 
the body of his father might be sought and hon- 
orably treated. Ismael forgot in a moment that 
Don Juan was an enemy, who had carried ravage 
and insult to the very gate of his capital ; he 
Duly thought of him as a gallant cavalier and a 
royal prince. By his command diligent search 
was made for the body. It was found in a bar- 
ranco and brought to Granada. There Ismael 
caused it to be laid out in state on a lofty bier, 



126 ISMAEL BEN F ERR AG. 

surrounded by torches and tapers, in om.) of these 
halls of the Alhambra. Osmyn and other of 
the noblest cavaliers were appointed as a guard 
of honor, and the Christian captives were assem 
bled to pray around it. 

In the mean time, Ismael wrote to the son of 
Prince Juan to send a convoy for the body, as- 
suring him it should be faithfully delivered up. 
In due time, a band of Christian cavaliers arrived 
for the purpose. They were honorably recei\ed 
and entertained by Ismael, and, on their depart- 
ure with the body, the guard of honor of Mos- 
lem cavaliers escorted the funeral train to the 
frontier. 

But enough ; — the sun is high above the moun- 
tains, and pours his full fervor on our heads. 
Already the terraced roof is hot beneath our 
feet; let us abandon it, and refresh ourselves 
under the Arcades by the Fountain of t/te Lions. 




THE TRUANT. 




E have had a scene of a petty tribula- 
tion in the Alhambra, which has thrown 
a cloud over the sunny countenance of 
Dolores. This little damsel has a female passion 
for pets of all kinds ; and from the superabundant 
kindness of her disposition one of the ruined 
courts of the Alhambra is thronged with her fa- 
vorites. A stately peacock and his hen seem to 
hold regal sway here, over pompous turkeys, 
querulous guinea-fowls, and a rabble rout of 
common cocks and hens. The great delight of 
Dolores, however, has for some time past been 
centred in a youthful pair of pigeons, who have 
lately entered into the holy state of wedlock, and 
even supplanted a tortoise-shell cat and kittens 
in her alFections. 

As a tenement for them wherein to commence 
housekeeping, she had fitted up a small chamber 
adjacent to the kitchen, tlie window of which 
looked into one of the quiet Moorish courts. 
Here they lived in happy ignorance of any world 
beyond the court and its sunny roofs. Never 
had they aspired to soar above the battlements, 
or to mount to the summit of the towers. Their 
virtuous union was at length (n-owned by two 



128 THE TRUANT. 

spotless and milk-white eggs, to the great joy of 
their clierishing little mistress. Nothing could 
be more praiseworthy than the conduct of the 
young married folks on this interesting occasion. 
They took turns to sit upon the nest until the 
eggs were hatched, and while their callow prog- 
eny required warmth and shelter ; — while one 
thus stayed at home, the other foraged abroad for 
food, and brought home abundant supplies. 

This scene of conjugal felicity has suddenly met 
wdth a reverse. Early this morning, as Dolores 
was feeding the male pigeon, she took a fancy to 
give him a peep at the great world. Opening a 
window, therefore, whicli looks down upon the 
valley of the Darro, she launched him at once 
beyond the walls of the Alhambra. For the 
first time in his life the astonished bird had to 
try the full vigor of his wings. He swept down 
into the valley, and then rising upwards with a 
surge, soared cdmost to the clouds. Never before 
had he risen to such a height, or experienced 
such delight in flying ; and, like a youjig spend- 
thrift just come to his estate, he seemed giddy v^^ith 
excess of liberty, and with the boundless field of 
action suddenly opened to him. For the whole 
day he has been circling about in capricious 
flights, from tower to tower, and tree to tree. 
Every attempt has been vain to lure him back 
by scattering grain upon the roofs ; he seems to 
have lost all thought of home, of his tender help- 
mate, and his callow young. To add to the anx- 
iety of Dolores, he has been joined by two pah- 
mas ladrones, or robber pigeons, whose instinct 



lEt TRUANT. 129 

it is to entice wandering pigeons to their own 
dove-cotes. The fugitive, like many other thought- 
less youths on their first launching upon the world, 
seems quite fascinated with these knowing but 
graceless companions, who have undertaken to 
show him life, and introduce him to society. He 
has been soaring with them over all the roofs and 
steeples of Granada. A thunder-storm has passed 
over the city, but he has not sought his home ; 
night has closed in, and still he comes not. To 
deepen the pathos of the affair, the female pigeon, 
after remaining several hours on the nest without 
being relieved, at length went forth to seek her 
recreant mate ; but stayed away so long that the 
young ones perished for want of the warmth and 
shelter of the parent bosom. At a late hour in 
the evening, word was brought to Dolores that 
the truant bird had been seen upon the towers of 
the Generalife. Now it happens that the Admin- 
istrador of that ancient palace has likewise a 
dove-cote, among the inmates of which are said 
to be two or three of these inveijzlino; birds, the 
terror of all neighboring pigeon-fanciers. Do- 
lores immediately concluded that the two feath- 
ered sharpers who had been seen with her fugi- 
tive were these bloods of the Generalife. A 
council of war was forthwith held in the chamber 
of Tia Antonia. The Generalife is a distinct 
jurisdiction from the Alhambra, and of course 
some punctilio, if not jealousy, exists between 
their custodians. It was determuied, therefore, 
to send Pepe, the stuttering lad of the gardens, 
as ambassador to the Administrador, requesting 



J. 30 THE TRUAXT. 

that if such fugitive should be found in liis do- 
minions, he might be given up as a subject of the 
Alhambra. . Pepe departed accordingly, on his 
rliploniatic expedition, through the moonlit groves 
and avenues, but returned in an hour with the 
aftlicting intelligence that no such bird was to be 
found in the dove-cote of the Generalife. The 
i\d minis trador, liowever, pledged his sove?*eigii 
word that if such vagrant should appear there, 
even at midnight, lie should instantly be arrested 
and sent back prisoner to his little black-eyed 
mistress. 

Thus stands the melancholy affair, which has 
occasioned much distress throughout tlie palace, 
and has sent the inconsolable Dolores to a sleep- 
less pillow. 

'' Sorrow endureth for a night," says 

the proverb, '• but joy cometh in the morning." 
The first object that met my eyes, on leaving my 
room this morning, was Dolores, with the truant 
pigeon in her hands, and her eyes spai'kling with 
joy. He had appeared at an eai'ly hour on the 
battlements, hovering shyly about from roof to 
roof, but at length entered the window, and sur- 
rendered himself prisoner. He gained little 
credit, however, by his return ; for tlie ravenous 
manner in which he devoured \\\q food set before 
him showed that, like the prodigal son, he had 
been driven home by sheer famine Dolores up- 
braided him tor his faithless conduct, calling him 
all manners of vagrant names, tiiough, woman- 
like, she fondled him at the same 'imc to her 
bosom, and covered him with kisses. I observed, 



THE TRUANT. 



131 



hon'ever, tliat slie had taken care to clip liis wings 
to prevent all future soarings ; — a precaution 
wliicli I mention for the benefit of all those who 
have truant lovers or wandering husbands. More 
than one valuable moral might be drawn from 
the story of 'Dolores and her pigeon. 





THE BALCONY. 




HAVE spoken of a balcony of the cen- 
tral window of the Hall of Ambassa- 
dors. It served as a kind of observa- 
tory, where I used often to take my seat, and con- 
sider not merely the heaven above but the earth 
beneatli. Besides the magnificent prospect which 
it commanded of mountain, valley, and vega, 
there was a little busy scene of human life laid 
open to inspection immediately below. At the 
foot of the hill was an alameda, or public walk, 
which, though not so fashionable as the more 
modern and splendid paseo of the Xenil, still 
boasted a varied and picturesque concourse. 
Hither resorted the small gentry of the suburbs, 
together with priests and friars, who walked for 
appetite and digestion ; majos and majas, the 
beaux and belles of the lower classes, in their 
Andalusian dresses ; swaggering contrabandistas, 
and sometimes half-muffled and mysterious loung- 
ers of the higher ranks, on some secret assig- 
nation. 

It was a moving picture of Spanish life and 
character, which I delighted to study ; and as the 
astronomer has his grand telescope with which to 
sweep the skies, and, as it were, bring the stars 



VIEWS frlm a balcony. 133 

nearer for his inspection, so I had a smaller one, 
of pocket size, for the use of my observatory 
with which I could sweep the regions below, and 
Dring the countenances of the motley groupa 
so c!o.-e as almost, at times, to make me think 
I could divine their conversation by the play and 
expression of their features. 1 was thus, in a 
manner, an invisible observer, and, without quit- 
ting my solitude, could throw myself in' an in- 
stant into the midst of society, — a rare advan- 
tage to one of somewhat shy and quiet habits, 
and fond, like myself, of observing the drama of 
life without becoming an actor in the scene. 

There was a considerable suburb lying below 
the Alhambra, filling the narrow gorge of the 
valley, and extending up the opposite hill of the 
Albaycin. Many of the houses were built in the 
Moorish style, round patios, or courts, cooled by 
fountains and open to the sky ; and as the inhab- 
itants passed much of their time in these courts, 
and on the terraced roofs during the summer sea- 
son, it follows that many a glance at their domes- 
tic life might be obtained by an aerial spectator 
like myselfj who could look down on them from 
the clouds. 

I enjoyed in some degree the advantages of 
the student in the famous old Spanish stoiy, who 
beheld all Madrid unroofed for his inspection ; 
and my gossiping squire, Mateo Xinienes, otTi- 
cialed occasionally as my Asmodeus, to give me 
anecdotes of the different mansions and their in- 
habitants. 

1 preferred, however, to form conjectural his- 



134 TAKING THE VEIL, 

tories for myself, and thus would sit for hours, 
weaving, from casual incidents and indications 
passing under my eye, a whole tissue of schemes 
intrigues, and occupations of the busy mortals 
below. There was scarce a pretty face or a strik- 
ing figure that I daily saw, about which I had 
not thus gradually framed a dramatic story, though 
some of my characters would occa.sionally act in 
du'ect opposition to the part assigned them, and 
disconcert the whole drama. Recoimoitring one 
day with my glass the streets of the Albaycin, 1 
beheld the procession of a novice about to take 
the veil ; and remarked several circumstances 
which excited the strongest sympathy in the fate 
of the youthful being thus about to be consigned 
to a living tomb. I ascertained to my satisfaction 
that she was beautiful, and, from the paleness of 
her cheek, that she was a victim rather than a 
votary. She was arrayed in bridal garments, 
and decked with a chaplet of white flowers, feut 
her heart evidently revolted at this mockery of a 
spiritual union, and yearned after its earthly 
loves. A tall stern-looking man v/alked near 
her in the procession : it was, of course, the ty- 
rannical fatlier, who, from some bigoted or sordid 
motive, had compelled this sacrifice. Amid the 
crowd was a dark handsome youth, in Andalusian 
garb, who seemed to fix on her an eye of agony. 
It was doubtless the secret lover from whom she 
was forever to be separated. My indignation rose 
as I noted the malignant expression painted on 
the countenances of the attendant monks and friars. 
The procession arrived at the chapel of the con- 



TAKING THE VEIL. 135 

vent ; the sun gleamed for the hist time upon the 
chaplet of the poor noviee, as she crossed the 
fatal threshold and disappeared within the build- 
inj-i;. The throng poured in with cowl, and cross, 
aud minstrelsy; the lover paused for a moment 
at the door. I could divine the tumult of his 
feelings ; but he mastered them, and entered. 
There was a long interval. 1 pictured to myself 
the scene j)assing within : the poor novice de- 
fepoiled of her transient finery, and clothed in 
the conventual garb ; the bridal chaplet taken 
Irom her brow, and her beautiful head shorn of 
its long silken tresses. I heard her murmur the 
ii'revocable vow. I saw her extended on a bier ; 
the death-pall spi-ead over her ; the funeral ser- 
vice performed that proclaimed her dt ad to the 
world ; her sighs vrere drowned in the dee}) tones 
of the organ, and the plaintive requiem of the 
nuns ; -the father looked on, unmoved, without a 
tear ; the lover — no — my imagination refused 
to portray the anguish of the lover — there the 
pictui-e remained a blank. 

After a time the throng again poiu'ed forth, 
and dispersed various ways, to enjoy the light 
of the sun and mingle wdth the stiri-ing scenes of 
life ; but the victim, with her bridal chaplet, was 
no longer there. The dooi* of tiie convent closed 
that severed her from the world forever. 1 saw 
the father and tlie lover issue forth ; they were 
*n earnest conversation. Tlie latter was vehe- 
ment in his gesticulations ; I expected some vio- 
lent termination to my drama ; but an angle of a 
building interfered and closed the scene. My 



136 THE MYSTERIOUS CAVALIER. 

eye afterwards was frequently turned to that con- 
vent wdth painful interest. I remarked late at 
night a solitary light twinkling from a remote 
lattice of one of its towers. " There," said I, 
" the unhappy nun sits weeping in her cell, 
while perhaps her lover paces the street below 
in unavailing anguish." 

— The officious Mateo interrupted my medita- 
tions and destroyed in an instant the cobweb 
tissue of my fancy. With his usual zeal he had 
gathered facts concerning the scene, whicli put 
my fictions all to fliglit. The heroine of my ro- 
mance was neither young nor handsome ; she had 
no lover ; she had entered the convent of her 
own free will, as a respectable asylum, and was 
one of the most cheerful residents within its 
walls. 

It was some little while before I could forgive 
the wrong done me by the nun in being thus 
happy in her cell, in contradiction to all the rules 
of romance ; I diverted my spleen, liowever, by 
watching, for a day or two, the pretty coquetries 
of a dark-eyed brunette, who, from the covert of 
a balcony shrouded with flowering shrubs and a 
silken awning, was carrying on a mysterious cor- 
respondence with a handsome, dark, Avell-whis- 
kcred cavalier, who lurked frequently in tho 
street beneath her window. Sometimes I saw 
liim at an early hour, stealing forth wrapped to 
the eyes in a mantle. Sometimes he loitered at a 
corner, in various disguises, apparently waiting 
for a private signal to slip into the house. Then 
there was the tinkling of a guitar at night and 



THE CHANGES OF THE DAY. 137 

a lantern shifted from place to place in the bal 
cony. I imagined another intrigue like that of 
Almaviva, Ijut was again disconcerted in all my 
suppositions. The supposed lover turned out to 
be the husband of the lady, and a noted contra- 
bandista ; and all his mysterious signs and mo\'e- 
jiients had doubtless some smuggling scheme in 
view. 

— I occasionally amused myself with noting 
from this balcony the gradual changes of the 
scenes below, accordinij to the different staires of 
the day. 

Scarce has the gray dawn streaked the sky, 
and the earliest cock crowed from the cottages of 
the hill-side, when the suburbs give sign of re- 
viving animation ; for the fresh hours of dawn- 
ing are precious in the summer season in a sultry 
climate. All are anxious to get the start of the 
sun, in the business of the day. The muleteer 
drives forth his loaded train for the journey ; the 
traveller slings his carbine behind his saddle, 
and mounts his steed at the gate of the hostel ; 
the brown peasant from the country urges forward 
his loitering beasts, laden with panniers of sunny 
fruit and fresh dewy vegetables, for already the 
thrifty housewives are hastening to the market. 

The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, 
tipping the transparent foliage of the groves. 
The matin bells resound melodiously through the 
pure bright air, announcing the hour of devotion. 
The muleteer halts his burdened anitnals before 
the chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt be- 
laind, and enters with hat in hand, smoothing hia 



138 THE CHANGES OF THE DAY. 

coal-black hair, to hear a mass, and to put up a 
prayer for a prosperous wayfaring across the sierra. 
And now ^ steals forth on fairy foot the gentle 
Senora, in trim basquina, with restless fan in 
hand, and dark eye flashing from beneath the 
gracefully folded mantilla; she seeks some well- 
frequented church to ofler up her morning orisons ; 
but the nicely adjusted dress, the dainty shoe 
and cobweb stocking, the raven tresses exquisitely 
braided, the fresh-plucked rose, gleaming among 
them like a gem, show that earth divides with 
Heaven the empire of her thoughts. Keep an 
eye upon her, careful mother, or vii-gin aunt, or 
vigilant duenna, whichever you may be, that walk 
behind ! 

As the morning advances, the din of labor aug- 
ments on every side ; the streets are thronged 
with man, and steed, and beast of burden, and 
there is a hum and murmur, like the surges of 
the ocean. As the sun ascends to his meridian, 
the hum and bustle gradually decline ; at the 
height of noon there is a pause. The panting 
city sinks into lassitude, and fin- several hours 
there is a general repose. The windows are 
closed, the curtains drawn, the hihabitants retired 
into the coolest recesses of their mansions ; the 
full-fed monk snores in his dormitory ; the brawny 
porter lies stretched on the pavement beside his 
burden ; the peasant and the laborer sleep be- 
zieath the ti-ees of the Alameda, lulled by tlic 
sultry chii'ping of th'e locust. The streets are 
deserted, except by the water-carrier, who re- 
freshes the ear by proclaiming the nierits of his 



THE CHANG EH OF THE BAk. 139 

sparkling beverage, " colder than the mountain 
snow (juas fria que la nieve).'' 

As the sun declines, there is again a gradual 
reviving, and when the vesper bell rings out his 
sinking knell, all nature seems to rejoice that the 
(yj-ant of the day has fallen. • Kow begins the 
bustle of enjoyment, when the citizens pour forth 
to breathe tlie evening air, and revel away the 
brief twilight \\\ the walks and gardens of the 
Darro and Xenil. 

As night closes, the capricious scene assumes 
new features. Liglit after light gradually twin- 
kles forth ; liere a taper from a balconied window ; 
there a votive lamp before the image of a Saint. 
Thus, by degrees, the city emerges from the per- 
vading gloom, and sparkles with scattered lights, 
like the starry firmament. Now break forth 
from coui't and gaa'den, and street and lane, the 
tinkling of innumerable guitars, and the clicking 
of castanets ; blending, at this lofty height, in a 
fiiint but general concert. " Enjoy the moment " 
is the creed of the gay and amorous Andalusian, 
and at no time does he practise it more zealously 
than on the balmy nights of summer, wooing his 
mistress with the dance, the love-ditty, and the 
passionate serenade. 

I was one evening seated in the balcony, en- 
joying the light breeze that came rustling along 
the side of the hill, among the tree-tops, when 
my humble historiographer Mateo, who was at 
my elbow, pointed out a spacious house, in an ob- 
scure street of the Albaycin, about which he re- 
lated, as nearly as I can recollect, the following 
anecdote. 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 




HERE was once upon a time a poor 
mason, or bricklayer, in Granada, who 
kept aU the saints' days and holidays, 
and Saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with 
all his devotion, he grew poorer and poorer, and 
could scarcely earn bread for his numerous family. 
One night he was roused from his first sleep by 
a knocking at his door. He opened it, and be- 
held before him a tall, meagre, cadaverous-looking 
priest. 

" ' Hark ye, honest friend ! ' said the stranger ; 
* I have observed that you are a good Christian, 
and one to be trusted; will you undertake a job 
this very night ? ' 

•• ' With all my heart, Seiior Padre, on condi- 
tion that I am paid accordingly.' 

" ' That you shall be ; but you must suffer 
yourself to be blindfolded.' 

" To this the mason made no objection. So, 
being hoodwinked, he was led by the priest 
through various rough lanes and winding passages, 
tintil tliey stopped before the portal of a house. 
The priest then applied a key, turned a creaking 
lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous 
door. They entered, the door was closed and 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MABON. ]4l 

bolted, and the mason was conducted througb an 
echoing corridor and a spacious hall to an inte- 
rior part of the building. Here the bandage was 
removed from his eyes, and he found himself in 
a patio, or court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. 
In the centre was the dry basin of an old Moor- 
ish fountain, under which the priest requested 
him to form a small vault, bricks and mortar 
being at hand for the purpose. He accordingly 
woi'ked all m'ght, but without finishing the job. 
Just before daybreak the priest put a piece of 
gold into his hand, and having again blindfolded 
him, conducted him back to his dwelling. 

" ' Are you willing,' said he, ' to return and 
complete your work ?' 

" ' Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am so well 
paid.' 

'• ' Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will 
coll again.' 

" He did so, and the vault was completed. 

•' ' Now,' said the priest, ' you must help me to 
bring forth the bodies that are to be buried in 
this vault.' 

" The poor mason's hair rose on his head at 
these words : he followed the priest, with trem- 
bling steps, into a retired chamber of the mansion, 
expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle of 
death, but was relieved on perceiving three or 
four portly jars standing in one corner. They 
were evidently full of money, and it was with 
great labor that he and the priest carried them 
forth and consigned them to their tomb. The 
vault was then closed, the pavement replaced, and 



142 THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 

all ti-aces of the work were obliterated. The 
mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a 
route different from that by which he had come 
After they had wandered for a long time through 
a perplexed maze of lanes and alleys, they halted. 
The priest then put two pieces of gold into his 
hand : ' Wait here,' said he, ' until you hear the 
cathedral bell toll for matins. If you presume 
to uncover your eyes before that time, evil will 
befall you : ' so saying, he departed. The mason 
waited fiiithfully, amusing himself by weighing 
the gold pieces in his hand, and clinking them 
against each other. The moment the cathedral 
bell rang its matin peal, he uncovered his eyes, 
and found himself on the banks of the Xenil ; 
whence he made the best of his way home, and 
revelled with his family for a whole fortnight on 
the profits of his two nights' work ; after which 
he was as poor as ever. 

" He continued to work a little, and pray a 
good deal, and keep saints' days and holidays, 
from year to year, while his family grew up as 
gaunt and ragged as a crew of gipsies. As he 
was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, 
he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon, who 
was noted for owning many houses, and being a 
griping landlord. The man of money eyed hira 
for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious 
shagged eyebrows. 

" ' I am told, friend, that you are very poor.' 

" ' There is no denying the fact, seiior, — it 
speaks for itself.' 

" • I presume, then, that you will be glad of a 
job, and will work cheap.' 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 143 

" ' As cheap, my master^ as any mason in 
Granada.' 

" ' Tliat 's what I want. I have an old house 
fallen into decay, which costs me more money tlian 
it is worth to keep it in repair, for nobody Avill 
live in it ; so I must contrive to patch it np and 
keep it togetlier at as small expense as possible.' 

" The mason was accordingly conducted to a 
large deserted house that seemed going to ruin, 
l^assing through several empty halls and cham- 
bers, he entered an inner court, where his eye' 
was caught by an old Moorish fountain. He 
paused for a moment, for a dreaming recollection 
of the place came over him. 

'• ' Pray,' said he, ' who occupied this house 
formerly ? ' 

"'A pest upon him!' cried the landlord; 'it 
was an old miserly priest, who cared lor nobody 
but himself. He was said to be immensely ricli, 
and, having no relations, it was thought he would 
leave all his treasures to the Church. He died 
suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to 
take possession of his wealth ; but nothing could 
tliey find but a few ducats in a leathern purse. 
The worst luck has fallen on me, for, since his 
dcuith, the old fellow continues to occupy my 
house wilhout paying rent, and there is no taking 
the law of a dead man. The people pretend to 
hear the clinking of gold all night in the chamber 
where the old priest slept, as if he were counting 
dver his money, and sometimes a groaning and 
moaning about the court. Whether true or false, 
tliese stories have brought a bad name on my 
house, and not a tenant will i-emain in it.' . 



144 THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 

" ' Enough,' said the mason sturdily : ' let me 
live in your house rent-free until some better 
tenant present, and I will engage to put it in re- 
pair, and to quiet the troubled spirit that disturbs 
it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and 
am not to be daunted by the Devil himself, even 
though he should come in the shape of a big bag 
of money ! ' 

" The offer of the honest mason Avas gladly ac- 
cepted ; he moved with his family into the house, 
and fulfilled all his engagements. By little and 
little he restored it to its former state ; the clink- 
ing of gold was no more heard at night in the 
chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be 
heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. 
In a word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the 
admiration of all his neighbors, and became one 
of the richest men in Granada : he gave large 
sums to the Church, by way, no doubt, of satisfy- 
ing his conscience, and never revealed the secret 
of the vault until on his death-bed to his son and 
beir." 



THE COURT OF LIOXS. 




HE peculiar charm of this old dreamy 
palace is its power of calling up vague 
II reveries and picturings of the past, and 
thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of 
the memory and the imagination. As I delight 
to walk in these " vain shadows," I am prone to 
seek those parts of the Alhanibra which are most 
favorable to this phantasmagoria of the mind ; 
and none are more so than the Court of Lions, 
and its surrounding halls. Here the hand of time 
has fallen the lightest, and the traces of Moorish 
elegance and splendor exist in almost their origi- 
nal brilliancy. Earthquakes have shaken the 
foundations of this pile, and rent its rudest towei's ; 
yet see ! not one of those slender columns has 
been displaced, not an arch of that light and 
fragile colonnade given way, and all the fliiry 
fretwork of these domes, apparently as unsub- 
stantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, 
exist after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh 
as if from the hand of the Moslem artist. I 
write in the midst of these mementos of the past, 
in the fresh hour of early morning, in the fated 
Hall of the Abencerrages. The blood-stained 
fountain, the legendary monument of their mas- 
10 



146 THE COURT OF LIONS. 

Bacre, is before me ; the lofty jet almost casts 
its (lew upon my paper. How ditficult to recon- 
cile the ancient tale of violence and blood with 
the gentle and peaceful scene around ! Every- 
thing here appears calculated to inspire kind and 
liappy feelings, for everything is delicate and 
beautiful. The very light falls tenderly from 
above, through the lantern of a dome tinted and 
wrought as if by fairy hands. Through the am- 
ple and fretted arch of the portal I behold the 
Court of Lions, with brilliant sunshine gleaming 
along its colonnades and sparkling in its fountains. 
The lively swallow dives into the court, and, 
rising with a surge, darts away twitteriiig over 
the roofs ; the busy bee toils humming among 
the flower - beds ; and painted butterflies hover 
from plant to plant, and flutter up and sport with 
each other in the sunny air. It needs but a 
slight exertion of the fancy to picture some pen- 
sive beauty of the harem, loitering in these se- 
cluded haunts of Oriental luxury. 

He, however, who would behold this scene 
under an aspect more in unison with its fortunes, 
let him come when the shadows of evening tem- 
per the brightness of the court, and throw a gloom 
into the surrounding halls. Then nothing can 
be more serenely melancholy, or more in har- 
mony with the tale of departed grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of 
Justice, whose deep shadowy arcades extend across 
the upper end of the court. Here was per- 
formed, in presence of Ferdinand and Isabella and 
their triumphant court, the pjmpous ceremonial 



A MOOR IN THE COURT OF LIONS. 147 

of high mass, on taking possession of the Alham- 
bra. The very cross is still to be seen upon the 
\Yall, where the altar was erected, and where 
officiated the Gnuid Cardinal of Spain, and others 
of the highest religious dignitaries of the land. 
I picture to myself the scene when this place Avas 
fdled with the conquering host, that mixture of 
mitred prelate and shaven monk, and steel-clad 
knight and silken courtier ; when crosses and 
crosiers and religious standards were mingled 
with proud armorial ensigns and the banners of 
the haugiity chiefs of Spain, and flaunted in tri- 
umph through these Moslem halls. I picture to 
myself Columbus, the future discoverer of a 
world, taking his modest stand in a remote corner, 
the humble and neglected spectator of the pageant. 
I see in imagination the Catholic sovei'cigns pros- 
trating themselv-es before the altar, and pouring 
forth thanks for their victory ; while the vaults 
resound with sacred minstrelsy, and the deep- 
toned Te Deum. 

The transient illusion is over, — the pageant 
melts from the fancy, — monarch, priest, and war- 
rior return into oblivion with the poor Moslems 
over whom they exulted. The hail of their 
triumph is waste and desolate. The bat flits 
about its twilight vault, and the owl hoots from 
the Dcighboi-ing tower of Comares. 

Entering tiie Court of the Lions a few even- 
ings since, I was almost startled at beholding a 
♦urbaned Moor quietly seated near the fountain. 
For a moment one of the fictions of the place 
seemed realized : an enchanted Moor had broken 



148 A MOOR IN THE COURT OF LIONS. 

the spell of eentiiries, and become visible. He 
proved, however, to be a mere ordinary mortal ; 
a native of Tetnan in Barbary, who had a 
shop in the Zaeatiii of Granada, where he sold 
rhubarb, trinkets, and perfumes. As he spoke 
Spanish fluently, I was enabled to hold con- 
versation with him, and found him shrewd and 
intelligent. He told me that he came up the 
hill occasionally in the summer, to pass a part 
of the day in the Alhambra, which reminded 
nim of the old palaces in Barbary, being built 
and adorned in similar style, though with more 
magnificence. 

As we walked about the palace, he pointed 
out several of the Arabic inscriptions, as possess- 
ing much poetic beauty. 

" Ah, seiior," said he, " when the Moors held Gra- 
.nada, they were a gayer people than they are now- 
adays. They thought only of love, music, and 
poetry. They made stanzas upon every occasion, 
and set them all to music. He who could make 
the best verses, and she who had the most tune- 
ful voice, might be sure of favor and preferment. 
In those days, if any one asked for bread, the 
reply Avas, make me a couplet ; and the poorest 
beggar, if he begged in rhyme, would often be 
rewarded with a piece of gold." 

" And is the popular feeling for poetry," said 
T, " entirely lost among you ? " 

" By no means, senor ; the people of Barbary, 
even those of the lower classes, still make coup- 
lets, and good ones too, as in old times ; but 
talent is not reward(id as it was then ; the rich 



THE PACE A OF TETUAN. U9 

prefer the jingle of their gold to the sound of 
poetry or music." 

As he was talking, his eye caught one of the 
inscriptions which foretold perpetuity to the power 
and glory of the Moslem monarchs, the masters 
of this pile. He shook his head, and shrugged 
his shoulders, as he interpreted it. " Such might 
have been the case," said he ; " the Moslems 
might still have been reigninaj in the Alhambra, 
had not Boabdil been a traitor, and given up his 
capital to the Christians. The Spanish monarchs 
would never have been able to conquer it by 
open force." 

I endeavored to vindicate the memory of the 
unlucky Boabdil from this aspersion, and to show 
that the dissensions which led to the downfall of 
the Moorish throne originated in the cruelty of 
his tiger-hearted father ; but the Moor would 
admit of no palliation, 

" Muley Abul Hassan," said he, " might have 
been cruel ; but he was brave, vigilant, and pat- 
riotic. Had he been properly seconded, Granada 
would still have been ours ; but his son Boabdil 
thwarted his plans, crippled his power, sowed 
treason in his palace, and dissension in his camp. 
May the curse of God light upon him for his* 
treachery ! " With these words the Moor lel't 
the Alhambra. 

The indignation of my turbaned companioc 
ngrees with an anecdote related by a friend, who, 
Ml the course of a tour in Barbary, had an inter- 
view with the Pacha of Tetuan. The Moorish 
governor was particular in his inquiries abou; 



150 THE PACHA OF TETUAN. 

Spain, and especially concerning the favored re- 
gion of Andalusia, the delights of Granada, and 
the remains of its royal palace. The replies 
awakened all those fond recollections, so deeply 
cherished by the Moors, of the power and splen- 
dor of their ancient empire in Spain. Turning 
to his Moslem attendants, the Pacha stroked his 
beard, and broke forth in passionate lamentations, 
that such a sceptre should have fallen from the 
sway of true believers. He consoled himself, 
however, with the persuasion, that the power and 
prosperity of the Spanish nation were on the 
decline ; that a time would. come when the Moors 
would conquer their rightful domains ; and that 
the day was perliaps not far distant when Mo- 
hammedan worship would again be offered up in 
the Mosque of Cordova, and a Mohammedan 
prince sit on his throne in the Alhambra. 

Such is the general aspiration and belief among 
the Moors of Barbary ; who consider Spain, or 
Andaluz, as it was anciently called, their riglitful 
heritage, of which they have been despoiled by 
treachery and violence.- These ideas are fostered 
and perpetuated by the descendants of the exiled 
Moors of Granada, scattered among the cities 
of Barbary. Several of these reside in Tetuan, 
preserving their ancient names, such as Paez and 
Medina, and refraining from intermarriage with 
any families who camiot claim the same high ori- 
gin. Their vaunted lineage is regarded with a 
degree of popular deference rarely shown in 
Mohanunedaji conmiunities to any hereditary dis- 
tinction, excepting in the royal line. 



BOABDIL SLANDERED. 151 

These families, it is said, continue to sigh 
after the terrestrial paradise of their ancestors, 
and to put up prayers in their mosques on Fri- 
days, imploring Allah to hasten the time when 
Granada shall be restored to the faithful : an 
event to which they look forward as fo/idly and 
confidently as did tiie Christian crusaders to the 
recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. Nay, it is 
added, that some of them retain the ancient maps 
and deeds of the estates and gardens of their an- 
cestors at Granada, and even the keys of the 
houses ; holding them as evidences of their he- 
reditary claims, to be produced at the anticipated 
day of restoration. 

JMy conversation with the Moors set me to 
musing on the fate of Boabdil. Never was sur- 
name more applicable than tJiat bestowed upon 
him by his subjects of el Zogoybi, or the Unlucky. 
His misfortunes began almost in his cradle, and 
ceased not even with his death. If ever he 
cherished the desire of leaving an honorable name 
on the historic page, how cruelly has he been de- 
frauded of his hopes ! Who is there that has 
turned the least attention to the romantic history 
of the Moorish domination in Spain, without 
kindling with indignation at the alleged atrocities 
of Boabdil ? Who has not been touched with 
the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, sub- 
jected by him to a trial of life and death, on a 
^alse charge of infidelity ? Who has not been 
shocked by his alleged murder of his sister and 
her two children, in a transport of passion ? 
Who has not felt his blood boil at the inhuman 



152 BOABDIL SLANDERED. 

m.'issacre of the gallant Abeneerrages, thirty-six 
of whom, it is affirmed, he ordered to be beheaded 
in the Court of Lions ? All these charges have 
been reiterated in v^arious forms ; they have 
passed into ballads, dramas, and romances, until 
they have taken too thorough possession of the 
public mind to be eradicated. There is not a 
foreigner of education that visits the Alhambra, 
but asks for the fountain where the Abeneerrages 
were beheaded ; and gazes with horror at the 
grated gallery where the queen is said to have 
been confined ; not a peasant of the Vega or the 
Sierra, but sings the story in rude couplets, to 
the accompaniment of his guitar, while his hearers 
learn to execi'ate the very name of Boabdil. 

Never, however, was name more foully and 
unjustly slandered. I have examined all the au- 
thentic chronicles and letters written by Spanish 
authors, contemporary with Boabdil ; some of 
whom were in the confidence of the Catholic 
sovereigns, and actually present in the camp 
tln-oughout the war. I have examined all the 
Arabian authorities I could get access to, through 
the medium of translation, and have found nothing 
to justify these dark and hateful accusations. 
The' most of these tales may be traced to a work 
commonly called '• The Civil Wars of Granada," 
containing a pretended history of the feuds of the 
Zegries and Abeneerrages, during the last struggle 
of the Moorish empire. The work appeared orig- 
inally in Spanish, and professed to be translated 
*rom the Arabic by one Gines Perez de Hita, an 
inhabitant of Mnrcia. It has since passed into 



BOABDIL SLANDERED. 153 

various langua2;es, and Floi-ian has taken from it 
much of the fable of his Goiisalvo of Cordova ; 
it has thus, in a great measure, usurjjed the au- 
thority of real history, and is currently believed 
by the people, and especially the peasantry of 
Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass 
of fiction, mingled with a few disfigured truths, 
which give it an air of veracity. It bears inter- 
nal evidence of its falsity ; the manners and 
customs of the Moors being extravagantly mis- 
represented in it, and scenes depicted totally in- 
compatible with their habits and their faith, and 
which never could have been recorded by a Ma- 
hometan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost 
criminal in the wilful perversions of this work : 
great latitude is undoubtedly to be allowed to 
romantic fiction, but there are limits which it 
must not pass ; and the names of the distinguished 
dead, which belong to history, are no more to 
be calumniated than those of the illustrious living. 
One would have thought, too, that the unfortunate 
Boabdil had suffered enough for his justifiable 
hostility to the Spaniards, by being stripped of 
his kinn^dom, without havino- his name thus wan- 
tonly traduced, and rendered a by-word and a 
theme of infamy in his native land, and in tlie 
very mansion of his fathers ! 

If the reader is sufficiently interested in these 
questions to tolerate a little histoiieal detail, the 
following facts, gleaned from what appear to be 
autiientic sources, and tracing the fortunes of the 
A^bencerrages, may serve to exculpate the unfo]" 



154 



BOABDIL SLANDERED. 



tiinatii Boabdil from the perfidious massacre of 
tliat illustrious line so shamelessly charged to 
him. It will also serve to throw a proper light 
upon the (dleged accusation and imprisonment of 
liis qiieeu. 




THE ABENCERRAGES. 




GRAND line of distinction existed 
among the JMoslems of Spain, between 
those of Oriental origin and those from 
Western Africa. Among the former the Arabs 
consiilered themselves the purest race, as being 
descended from the countrymen of the Prophet, 
who first raised tlie standard of Islam ; among the 
latter, the most wai-like and powerful were the 
Berber tribes from Mount Atlas and the deserts 
of Sahara, commonly known as Moors, who sub- 
dued the tribes of the sea-coast, founded the city 
of Morocco, and for a long time disputed with 
the Oriental races the control of Moslem Spain. 
Among the Oriental races the Abencerrages 
held a distinguished rank, priding tliemselves on 
a pure Arab descent from the Ik*ni Seraj. one of 
the tribes who were Ansares or Companions of 
the Prophet. The Abencerrages flourished for a 
time at Cordova ; but probably repaired to Gra- 
nada after the downfall of the Western Callphat ; 
it was there they attained their iiistorieal and 
romar.tic celebrity, being foremost among the 
splendid cliivalry which gi'aced the court of the 
Alhanibra. 



156 THE A^^iKNCERRAGES. 

Their higliest and most dano^erous prosperity 
was during the precarious reign of Muliamed 
Nasar, surnamed El Hayzari, or the Left-liandcd. 
That ill-starred monarch, when he .ascended the 
throne in 1423, lavished his favors upon this gallant 
line, making the head of the tribe, Jusef Abeii 
Zeragh, his vizier, or prime minister, and advancing 
his relatives and friends to the most distingin'shed 
posts about the court. Tliis gave great offence 
to other tribes, and caused intrigues among their 
chiefs. Muhamed lost popularity also by his 
manners. He was vain, inconsiderate, and haugh- 
ty ; disdained to mingle among his subjects ; for- 
bade those jousts and tournaments, the dellglit of 
high and low, and passed his time in the luxu- 
rious retirement of the Alhambra. The conse- 
quence was a popvdar insurrection : the palace 
was stormed ; the king escaped through the gar- 
dens, fled to the sea-coast, crossed in disguise to 
Africa, and took refuge with his kinsman, the sov- 
ereign of Tunis. 

Muhamed el Zaguer, cousin of the fugitive 
monarch, took possession of the vacant throne. 
He pursued a different course from his predeces- 
sor. He not only gave fetes and tourneys, but 
entered the lists himself, in grand and sumptuous 
array ; he distinguished himself in managing his 
horse, in tilting, riding at the ring, and other 
chivalrous exercises ; feasted with his cavaliers, 
and made them magnificent presents. 

Those who had been in favor with his prede- 
cessor, now experienced a reverse ; he manifested 
such hostility to them that more than five hun- 



THE ABENCEERAGES. 157 

dred of the principal cavaliers left the city. Ju- 
Ref Aben Zeragli, witli forty of the Abeiicerrages, 
abandoned Granada in the night, and sought the 
court of Juan the king of Castile. Moved by 
their representations, that young and generous 
monarch wrote letters to the sovereign of Tunis, 
inviting him to assist in punishing the usurper 
and restoring the exiled king to his throne. The 
faithful and indefatigable vizier accompanied the 
bearer of these letters to Tunis, where he re- 
joined his exiled sovereign. The letters were 
successful. Muhamed el Hayzari landed in An- 
dalusia with five hundred African horse, and was 
joined by the Abencerrages and others of his 
adherents and by his Christian allies ; wherever 
he appeared the people submitted to him ; troops 
sent against him deserted to his standard ; Gra- 
nada was recovered without a blow ; the usurper 
retreated to tlie Alhambra, but was beheaded by 
his own soldiers (1428), after reigning between 
two and three years. 

El Flayzari, once more on the throne, heaped 
honors on the loyal vizier, through whose faithful 
services he had been restored, and once more tiie 
line of the Abencerrages basked in the sunshine 
of royal favor. El Hayzari sent ambassadors to 
King Juan, thanking him for his aid, and propos- 
ing a perpetual league of amity. The king of 
Castile required homage and yearly tribute. 
These the left-handed monarch refused, suppos- 
ing the youthful king too much engaged in civil 
war to enforce his claims. Agaui the kingdom 
of Granada was harassed by invasions, and its 



158 DON PEDRO VENEGAS. 

Vega laid waste. Various battles took place 
with various success. But El Hayzari's greatest 
danger was near at home. There was at that 
time in Granada a cavalier, Don Pedro Venegas 
by name, a Moslem by faitli, but Christian by 
descent, whose early history borders on romance. 
lie was of the noble house of Luque, but cap- 
tured when a child, eight years of age, by Cid 
Yahia Alnayar, prince of Almeria.* who adopted 
him as his son, educated him in the JMoslem 
faith, and brought him up among his children, 
the Celtimerian princes, a proud family, descended 
in direct line from Aben Hud, one of the early 
Granadian kings. A mutual attachment sprang 
up between Don Pedro and the princess Ceti- 
merien, a daughter of Cid Yahia, famous for her 
beauty, and whose name is perpetuated by the 
ruins of her palace in Granada — still bearing 
traces of Moorish elegance arid luxury. In 
process of time they were married ; and thus a 
scion of the Spanish house of Luque became 
engrafted on the royal stock of Aben Hud. 

Such is the early story of Don Pedro Venegas 
who at the time of which we treat was a man 
mature in years, and of an active, ambitious spirit 
He appears to have been the soul of a conspiracy 
set on foot about this time, to topple Muhamed the 
Left-handed from his unsteady throne, and elevate 
in his place Yusef Aben Alhamar, the eldest of 
the Celtimerian princes. The aid of the king of 
Castile was to be secured, and Don Pedro pro- 
ceeded on a secret embassy to Cordova for the 
* Alcantara, Hist. GranacL, O. 3, p. 220, note. 



YWiEF ABEN ALHAMaR. 159 

purpose. He informed King Juan of the extent 
of the conspiracy ; that Yusef Aben Aihaniar 
could bring a hii-ge force to his standard as soon 
as he should appear in the Vega, and would ac- 
knowledge himself his vassal, if with his aid ho 
should attain the crown. The aid was promised, 
and Don Pedro hastened back to Granada with 
tiie tidings. The conspirators now left the city, 
a few at a time, under various pretexts ; and 
when King Juan passed the frontier, Yusef Aben 
Alhamar brought eight thousand men to his 
standard, and kissed his hand in token of 
allegiance. 

It is needless to recount the various battles by 
which the kingdom was desolated, and the vari- 
ous intrigues by which one half of it was roused 
to rebellion. The Abenceri-ages stood by the fail- 
ing fortunes of Muhamed throughout the strug- 
gle ; their last stand was at Loxa, where their 
chief, the vizier Yusef Aben Zeragh, fell bravely 
fighting, -and many of their noblest cavaliers were 
slain : in fact, in that disastrous war the fortunes 
of the family were nearly wrecked. 

Again the ill-starred Muliamed was driven 
from his throne, and took refuge in Malaga, the 
alcayde of which still remained true to him. 

Y'usef Aben Alhamar, commonly known as 
Yusef II., entered Granada in triumph on the 
first of January, 1432, but he Ibund it a melan- 
choly city, where half of the inhabitants w^ere in 
mourning. Not a noble family but had lost 
some member ; and in the slaugliter of the Ab- 
encerrages at Loxa had fallen some of the 
brightest of the chivalry. i 



160 YUSEF ABEN ALHAMAR. 

Tlie royal pageant passed through silent streets, 
and the barren homage of a court in the halls of 
the Alhambra ill supplied the want of sincere 
and popular devotion. Yusef Abcn Alhamar 
felt the insecurity of his position. Tlie deposed 
monarch was at hand in Malaga ; the sovereign 
of Tunis espoused his cause, and pleaded with 
the Christian monarchs in his favor ; above all, 
Yusef felt his own unpopularity in Granada ; 
previous fatigues had impaired his health, a pro- 
found melancholy settled upon him, and in the 
course of six months he sank into the grave. 

At the news of his death, Muhamed the Left- 
handed hastened from Malaga, and again was 
placed on the throne. From the Avrecks of 
the Abencerrages he chose as vizier Abdelbar, 
one of the worthiest of that magnanimous line. 
Through his advice he restrained his vindictive 
feelings and adopted a conciliatory policy. He 
pardoned most of his enemies. Yusef, the de- 
funct usurper, had left three children. His estates 
were apportioned among them. Aben Celim, 
the eldest son, was confirmed in the title of Prince 
of Almeria and Lord of Marchena in the Alpux- 
arras.» Ahmed, the youngest, was made Seiior 
of Luchar ; and Equivila, the daughter, received 
rich patrimonial lands in the fertile Vega, anc 
various iiouses and shops in the Zacatin of Gra- 
nada. The vizier Abdelbar counselled the king, 
moreover, to secure the adherence of the family 
by matrimonial connections. An aunt of Mu- 
hamed was accordingly given in marriage to 
Aben Celim, while the prince Nasar, youngeJ 



LINDARAXA. 161 

brother of the deceased usurper, received tho 
baud of the beautiful Lindaraxa, daughter of 
Muhamed's faitliful adherent, the alcayde of 
JNIalaga. This was the Lindaraxa whose name 
still designates one of the gardens of the Al- 
ba m bra. 

Don Pedro de Yenegas alone, the husband of 
the princess Cetimerien, received no favor. He 
was considered as having produced the late 
troubles by his intrigues. The Abencerrages 
charged him with the reverses of their family and 
the deaths of so many of their bravest cavaliers. 
The king never spoke of him but by the oppro- 
brious appellation of the Tornadizo, or Renegade. 
Finding himself in danger of arrest and punish- 
ment, he took leave of his wife, the princess, his 
two sons, Abul Cacim and Reduan, and his 
daughter, Cetimerien, and fled to Jaen. There, 
like his brother-in-law, the usurper, he expiated 
his intrigues and irregular ambition by profound 
humiliation and melancholy, and died in 1434 a 
penitent, because a disappointed nian.^ 

Muhamed el Hayzari was doomed to further 
reverses. He had two nephews, Aben Osmyn, 
surnamed el Anaf, or the Lame, and Aben Ismael. 
The former, who was of an ambitious spirit, 
resided in Almeria ; the latter in Granada, where 
he had many friends. He was on the point of 
es})ousing a beautiful girl, when his royal uncle 
interfered and gave her to one of his favorites. 
Enraged at this despotic act, the prince Aben 

* Salazar y Castro, Hist. Gtnealog. de la Qisa de Lara, lib. 
v., c. 12. cited bv Alcantara in his HisL Granad. 



IG2 THE ABKNCKRRAGES. 

Ismael took horse and weapons and j^ailiod frora 
Granada for tlic frontier, followed by numerous 
cavaliers. The affair gave genei-al disgust, espe- 
cially to the Abencerrages who Avere attached to 
the prince. No sooner did tidings reach Ahen 
Osniyn of the public discontent than his anibi' 
tion was aroused. Throwing himself suddenly 
into Granada, he raised a popular tumult, sur- 
prised his uncle in the Alhambra, compelled him 
to abdicate, and proclaimed himself king. This 
occurred in September, 1445. The Abencen-ages 
now gave up the fortunes of the left-handed king 
as hopeless, and himself as incompetent to rule. 
Led by their kinsman, the vizier Abdelbar, and 
accompanied by many other cavaliers, they aban- 
doned the court and took post in Montefrio. 
Thence Abdelbar wrote to Pi-ince Aben Ismael, 
who had taken refuge in Castile, inviting him to 
the camp, offering to support his pretensions to 
the throne, and advising him to leave Castile 
secretly, lest Ids departure should be opposed by 
King Juan II. The pi-ince, hovrever, confiding 
in the generosity of the Castilian monarch, told 
frankly the whole matter. He was not mistaken. 
King Juan not merely gave him permission to 
depart, but promised him aid, and gave him letters 
to that effect to his commanders on the frontiers. 
Aben Ismael departed with a brilliant escort, ar- 
rived in safety at Montefrio, and was proclaimed 
king of Granada by Abdelbar and his partisans, 
rhe most impoi-tant of whom were the Abencer- 
rages. A long course of civil wars ensued be- 
tween the two cousins, rivals for the throne 



ABEN OSMYN. 163 

Aben Osni}'!! was aided by the kings cf Navarre 
and Aragoii, while Juan II., at war with his rebel- 
hoiis subjects, could give little assistance to Aben 
Ismael. 

Thus for several years the country was torn 
])j internal strife and desolated by foreign inroads, 
so that scarce a field but was stained with blood. 
Aben Osmyn was brave, and often signalized 
himself m arms ; but he was cruel and despotic, 
and ruled with an iron hand. He otiended the 
nobles by his caprices, and the populace by his 
tyranny, while his rival cousin conciliated all 
hearts by his benignity. Hence there were con- 
tinual desertions from Granada to the fortified 
camp at Montefrio, and the party of Aben Ismael 
was constantly gaining strength. At length the 
khig of Castile, having made peace with the kings 
of Aragon and I:^avarre, was enabled to send a 
choice body of troops to the assistance of Aben 
Ismael. The latter now left his trenches in 
Montefrio, and took the field. The combined 
forces marched upon Granada. Aben Osmyn 
sallied forth to the encounter. A bloody battle 
ensued, in which both of the rival cousins fought 
with heroic valor. Aben Osmyn was defeated 
and driven back to his gates. He summoned the 
inhabitants to arms, but few answered to his call ; 
his cruelty had alienated all hearts. Seeing his 
fortunes at an end, he determined to close his 
career by a signal act of vengeance. Shutting 
liimself up in the Alhambra, he summoned 
thither a number of the piincipal cavaliers whom 
He suspected of disloyalty. As they entered, they 



164 ABEN IS MA EL. 

were one by one put to death. This is supposed 
by some to be the massacre which gave its ftital 
name to the hall of the AbenceiTaf]jes. Havinoj 
perpetrated this atrocious act of vengeance, and 
hearing by the shouts of the populace that Aben 
Isniael was already proclaimed king in the city, 
he escaped with his satellites by the Cerro del 
Sol and the valley of the Darro to the Alpuxarra 
Mountains ; where he and his followers led a kind 
of robber life, laying villages and roads inider 
contribution. 

Aben Ismael II., who thus attained the throne 
hi 1454, secured the friendship of King Juan II. 
by acts of homage and magnihcent presents. He 
gave liberal rewards to those who had been faith- 
ful to him, and consoled the families of those 
who had fallen in his cause. During his reign, 
the Abencerrages were again among the most 
favored of the brilliant chivalry that graced his 
court. Aben Ismael, however, was not of a 
warlike spirit ; his reign was distinguished rather 
by works of public utility, the ruins of some of 
which are still to be seen on the Cerro del Sol. 

In the same year of 1454 Juan II. died, and 
was succeeded by Henry IV. of Castile, surnamed 
the Impotent. Aben Ismael neglected to renew 
the league of amity with him wliich had existed 
tvith his predecessor, as he found it to be unpop- 
ular with the people of Granada. King Henry 
resented the omissions, and, under pretext of 
arrears of tribute, made repeated forays into the 
kingdom of Granada. He gave countenance also 
to Aben Osmyn and his robber hordes, and took 



ABEN ISMAEL. 165 

some of them into pay ; but his proud cavaliers 
refused to associate wiLii intidel outlaws, aud de* 
termiued to seize Abeu Osuiyn ; who, however 
made his escape, first to Seville, and thence to 
Castile. 

In the year 1456, on the occasion of a great 
foray into the Vega by the Christians, Abeu 
Ismael, to secure a peace, agreed to pay the king 
of Castile a certain tribute annually, and at the 
same time to liberate six hundred Christian cap- 
tives ; or, should the number of captives fall 
short, to make it up in Moorish hostages. Aben 
Ismael fultilled the rigorous terms of the treaty, 
and reigned for a number of years with more 
tranquillity than usually fell to the lot of the 
monarchs of that belligerent kingdom. Granada 
enjoyed a great state of prosperity during his 
reign, and was the seat of festivity and splendor. 
His sidtana was a daughter of Cid Hiaya Abra- 
ham Alnayar, prince of Almeria ; and he had 
by her two sons, Abul Hassan, and Abi Abdallah, 
surnamed El Zagal, the father and uncle of 
Boabdil. We approach now the eventful period 
signalized by the conquest of Granada. 

JNIuley Abul Hassan succeeded to the throne 
on the death of his father in 1465. One of his 
first acts was to refuse payment of the degrading 
tribute exacted by the Castilian monarch. His 
refusal was one of the causes of the subsequent 
disastrous war. I confine myself, however, to 
facts connected with the fortunes of the Aljencer- 
rages and the charges advanced against Boabdil. 

The reader will recollect that Don Pedro 



166 DESCENDANTS OF DON PEDRO VENEGAS. 

Venegas, surnamed El Tornadizo, when lie fled 
from Granada in 1433, left behind him two sons, 
Abu I Cacim and Reduan, and a daughter, Ceti- 
merien. They always enjoyed a distinguished 
rank in Granada, from their royal descent by the 
mother's side, and from being connected, through 
the princes of Almeria, with the last and the 
present king. The sons had distinguished them- 
selves by their talents and bravery, and the 
daughter Cetimerien was married to Cid Hiaya, 
grandson of King Yusef and brother-in-law of 
El Zagal. Thus powerfully connected, it is not 
surprising to find Abul Cacim Venegas advanced 
to the post of vizier of Muley Abul Hassan, and 
Reduan Veneiras one of his most flivored generals. 
Their rise was regarded with an evil eye by the 
Abencerrages, who remembered the disasters 
brought upon their family, and the deaths of so 
many of their line, in the war fomented by the 
intrigues of Don Pedro, in the days of Yusef 
Aben Alhamar. A feud had existed ever since 
between the Abencerrages and the house of Ven- 
egas. It was soon to be aggravated by a formi- 
dable schism which took place in the royal harem. 
Muley Abul Hassan, in his youthful days, had 
married his cousin, the Princess Ayxa la Horra, 
daughter of his uncle, the ill-starred sultan, Mu- 
hamed the Left-handed ; * by her he had two 
sons, the eldest of whom was Boabdil, heir pre- 
sumptive to the throne. Unfortunately at an 
advanced age he took another wife, Isabella de 
Solis, a young and beautiful Christian captive ; 
* Al Makkari, B. VIII. c. 7. 



( 



THE RIVAL SULTAXAS. 167 

better known by her Moorish appellation of 
Zoraya ; by her he had also two sons. Two 
factions were produced in the palace by the I'i- 
valry of the sultanas, who were each anxious to 
secure for their children the succession to the 
tlirone. Zoraya was supported by the vizier 
Abul Cacini Venegas, his brother Reduan Vene- 
gas, and their numerous connections, partly 
through sympathy with her as being, like them- 
selves, of Christian lineage, and partly because 
they saw she was the favorite of the doting 
monarch. 

Tlie Abencerrages, on the contrary, rallied 
round the sultana Ayxa ; partly through heredi- 
tary opposition to the family of A'enegas, but 
chiefly, no doubt, through a strong feeling of 
loyalty to her as daughter of Muhamed Alhay- 
zari, the ancient benefactor of their line. 

Tlie dissensions of the palace went on increas- 
ing. Jntrigues of all kinds took place, as is 
usual in royal palaces. Suspicions were artfully 
instilled in tlie mind of Muley Abul Hassan 
that Ayxa was engaged in a plot to depose him 
and put her son Boabdil on the throne. In his 
first transports of rage he confined them both in 
the tower of Comares, threatening the life of 
Boabdil. At dead of night the anxious mothei 
lowered her son fi'ora a window of the tower by 
the scarfs of herself and her female attendants ; 
and some of her adherents, who were in waiting 
fvitli swift horses, bore hira away to the Alpux- 
arras. It is this imprisonment of the sultana 
Ayxa which possibly gave rise to the fable of 



168 FATE OF THE ABENCERRAGEb. 

the queen of Boabdil being conlined by him in a 
tower to be tried for her Hie. oS'o otlier shadow 
of a ground exists for it, and here we find the 
tyrant jailer was his father, and the captive sul- 
tana his mother. 

The massacre of the Abencerrages in the halls 
of the Alhambra is placed by some about this 
time, and attributed also to ]\luley Abul Hassan, 
on suspicion of their being concerned in the con- 
spiracy. The sacritice of a number of the cava- 
liers of that line is said to have been suggested 
by the vizier Abul Cacim Yenegas, as a means 
of striking terror into the rest.* If such were 
really the case, the barbarous measure proved 
abortive. The Abencerrages conthmed intrepid, 
as they were loyal, in their adherence to the cause 
of Ayxa and her son Boabdil, throughout the war 
which ensued, while the Venegas were ever fore- 
most in the ranks of Muley Abul Hassan and 
El Zagal. The ultimate Ibrtunes of thes^ rival 
families is worthy of note. The Venegas, in tho 
last struggle of Granada, were among those who 
submitted to the conquerors, renounced the Mos- 
lem creed, returned to the faith from wliich their 
ancestor had apostatized, were rewarded with 
offices and estates, intermarried with Spanish 
families, and have left posterity among the nobles 
of the land. The Abencerrages remained true 
to their faith, true to their king, true to their des- 
perate cause, and went down with the foundering 

* Alcantara, Hist. Grunad., c. 17. See also Al Makkari, 
Hist. Mohama. Dijnasiits, B. VIII. c. T, with the Commentarieg 
of Don I'ascual de Guyangos. 



I 



BOABDIL AND HIS SULTANA. 169 

wreck of Moslem domination, leaving nothing be- 
hind them but a gallant and romantic name in 
history. 

In this historical outline, I trust I have shown 
enough to put the fable concerning Boabdil and 
the Abencerrages in a true ligiit. The story of 
the accusation of his queen, and his cruelty to 
Lis sister, are equally void of foundation. In his 
domestic relations he appears to have been kind 
and affectionate. History gives him but one 
wife, Morayma, the daughter of the veteran 
alcayde of Loxa, old Aliatar, famous in song and 
story for his exploits in border warfare ; and who 
fell in that disastrous foray into the Christian 
lands in which Boabdil was taken prisoner. 
Morayma was true to Boabdil throughout all his 
vicissitudes. When he was dethroned by the 
Castilian monarchs, she retired with him to the 
petty domain allotted him in the valleys of the 
Alpuxarras. It was only when (dispossessed of 
this by the jealous precautions and subtle chi- 
canery of Ferdinand, and elbowed, as it were, 
out of his native lantl) he was preparing to em- 
bark for Africa, that her health and spirits, ex- 
hausted by anxiety and long suffering, gave way, 
and she fell into a ling^erino; illness aggravated 
by corroding melancholy. Boabdil w^as constant 
and affectionate to her to the last ; the sailing of 
the ships was delayed for several weeks, to the 
great annoyance of the suspicious Ferdinand. 
At length Morayma sank into the grave, evidently 
^be victim of a broken heart, and the event was 



170 



BOABDIL AND HIS SULTANA. 



reported to Ferdinand by his agent as one pro- 
pitious to his purposes, removing the only obstacle 
to the embarkation of Boabdil.* 

* For authorities for these latter facts, see the Appendix to 
lUs author's revised edition of the Conquest of Granada. 



4 






MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

S HILE my mind was still warm w^th the 
subject of the unfortunate Boahdil, I 
set forth to trace the mementos of him 
still existing in this scene of his sovereignty and 
misfortunes. In the Tower of Comares, immedi- 
ately under the Hall of Ambassadors, are two 
vaulted rooms, separated by a narrow passage ; 
these are said to have been the prisons of him- 
self and his mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra ; 
indeed, no other part of the tower would have 
served for the purpose. The external walls of 
these chambers are of prodigious thickness, pierced 
with small windows secured by iron bars. A 
narrow stone gallery, with a low parapet, extends 
along three sides of the tower just below the 
windows, but at a considerable height from the 
ground. From this gallery, it is presumed, tlie 
queen lowered her son with the scarfs of herself 
and her female attendants during the darkness 
of the night to the hill-side, where some of his 
faithful adherents waited with fleet steeds to bear 
him to the mountains. 

Between three and four hundred years have 
elapsed, yet this scene of the drama remains al- 
most unchanged. As I paced the gallery, my 



172 MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

imagination pictured the anxious queen leaning 
over the parapet, listening, with the throbbings 
of a mother's heart, to the last echoes of the 
horses' hoofs as her son scoured along the narrow 
valley of the Darro. 

I next sought the gate by which Boabdil made 
his last exit from the Alhambra, when about to 
surrender his capital and kingdom. With the 
melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, or perhaps 
with some superstitious feeling, he requested of 
the Catholic monarchs that no one afterwards 
might be permitted to pass through it. His 
prayer, according to ancient chronicles, was com- 
plied with, through the sympathy of Isabella, and 
the gate was walled up.* 

I inquired for some time in vain for such a 
portal; at length my humble attendant, Mateo 
Ximenes, said it must be one closed up with 
stones, which, according to what he had heard 
from his father and grandfather, was the gateway 
by which King Chico had left the fortress. 
There was a mystery about it, and it had never 
been opened within the memory of the oldest 
inhabitant. 

He conducted me to the spot. The gateway is 

* Ay una puerta en la Alhambra por la qual salio Chico 
Eey de los Moros, quando si riudio prisionero al Eey de Es- 
paiia D. Fernando, y le entrego la ciudad con el Castillo. 
Pidio esta principe corao por raerced, y en memoria de laa 
importante conquista, al que quedasse siempre cerrada esta 
puerta. Consmtio en alio el Eey Fernando, y des de aquel 
tiempo no solamente no se abrio la puerta sine tambien se 
construyo junto a ella fuerte bastion. — Moreri's Histoncal 
Diciiun-M-y, Spanish Edition, Vol. I. p. 372. 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 173 

in the centre of wliat ^Yas once an immense pile, 
called tlie Tower of the Seven Floors {la Torre 
de los siete suelos). It is famous in the neighhor- 
liood as the scene of strange apparitions and 
Moorish enchantments. According to Swinburne 
ihe traveller, it was originally the great gate of 
entrance. The antiquaries of Granada pronounce 
it the entrance to that quarter of the royal resi- 
dence where the king's body-guards were sta- 
tioned. It therefore might well form an immedi- 
ate entrance and exit to the palace ; Avhile the * 
grand Gate of Justice served as the entrance of 
state to the fortress. When Boabdil sallied by 
this gate to descend to the Vega, where he was 
to surrender the keys of the city to the Spanish 
sovereigns, he left his vizier Aben Comixa to 
receive, at the Gate of Justice, the detachment 
from the Christian army and the officers to whom 
the fortress was to be given up."^ 

The once redoubtable Tower of the Seven 
Floors is now a mere wreck, having been blown 
up with gunpowder by the French, when they 
abandoned the fortress. Great masses of the 
Avail lie scattered about, buried in luxuriant 
herbage, or overshadowed by vines and fig-trees. 
The arch of the gateway, though rent by the 
shock, still i-emains ; but the last wish of poor 
Boabdil has again, though unintentionally, bet;n 

* The minor details of the surrender of Granada have 
been stated in ditlerent ways even by eye-witnesses. Tho 
author, in his revised edition of the Gniqiiesl, has endeavored 
to adjust them according to the latest and apparently best au- 
thorities. 



174 MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

fulfilled, for the portal has been closed up by 
loose stoues gathered from the ruins, and remains 
impassable. 

Mounting my horse, I followed up the route 
of the Moslem monarch from this place of his 
exit. Crossing the hill of Los Martyros, and 
keeping alons: tlie garden - wall of a convent 
bearing the same name, I descended a rugged 
ravine beset by thickets of aloes and Indian figs, 
and lined with caves and hovels swarming with 
gipsies. The descent was so steep and broken 
that I was fain to alight and lead my horse. By 
this via dolorosa poor Boabdil took his sad de- 
parture to avoid passing through the city ; partly, 
perhaps, througli unwillingness that its inhabi- 
tants should behold his luimiliation ; but chiefly, 
in all probability, lest it miglit cause some popu- 
lar agitation. For the last reason, undoubtedly, 
the detachment sent to take possession of the 
fortress ascended by the same route. 

Emerging from this rough ravine, so full of 
melancholy associations, and passing by the puerta 
de las molinos (the gate of the mills), I issued 
forth upon the public promenade called the 
Prado ; and pursuing the course of the Xenil, 
arrived at a small chapel, once a mosque, now 
the Hermitage of San Sebastian. Here, accord- 
ing to tradition, Boabdil surrendered the keys of 
Granada to King Ferdinand. I rode slowly 
thence across the Vega to a village where the 
family and household of the unhappy king awaited 
him, for he had sent them forward on the preced- 
mg uiglit from the Alhambra, that his mother and 



Mt:Mi:NTOS OF BOABDTL. ] 75 

wife might not participate in his personal humili- 
ation, or be exposed to tlie gnze of tiie conquerors. 
Following on in the route of the melancholy hand 
of royal exiles, I arrived at the foot of a chain 
of barren and dreary heights, forming the skirt 
of the Alpuxarra Mountains. P'rom the summit 
of one of these the unfortunate Boabdii took his 
last look at Granada ; it beai'S a name expressive 
of his sorrows, La Cuesta de las Lagrimas (the 
hill of tears). Beyond it, a sandy road winds 
acro.-s a rugged cheerless waste, doubly dismal to 
the unhappy monarch, as it led to exile. 

I spurred my horse to the summit of a rock, 
where Boabdii uttered his last sorrowful excla- 
mation, as he turned his eyes from taking their 
farewell gaze : it is still denominated el ultimo 
suspiro del Mora (tiie las^t sigh of the Mo(jr). 
Wlio can wonder at his anguish at being exjjelled 
from such a kingdom and such an abode ? With 
the Alhambra he seemed to be yielding up all the 
honors of his line, and all the glories and delights 
of life. 

It was here, too, that his affliction was embit- 
tered by the reproach of his mother, Ayxa, who 
had so often assisted him in times of peril, and 
had vainly sought to instil into him her own 
resolute spirit. "You do well," said she, ''to 
weep as a woman over what you could not defend 
as a man ; " a speech savoring more of the pride 
if the ])i"ince>s than the tenderness of the mother. 

When this anecdote was rehited to Chai-les V., 
by Bi.-hop Guevara, the emperor joined hi the 
expression of scorn at the weakness of the waver- 



176 MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

ing Boabdil. " Had I been he, or he been I,' 
said the Iwughty potentate, " T would rather have 
made this Alharnbra my sepulchre than have lived 
without a kingdom in the Alpuxarra." How 
easy it is for those in power and prosperity to 
preach heroism to the vanquished ! how little can 
they understand that life itself may rise in value 
with the unfortunate, when nau^-ht but life re- 



nianis 



Slowly descending the " Hill of Tears," I let 
my horse take his own loitering gait back to 
Granada, while I turned the story of the unfor- 
tunate Boabdil over in my mind. In summing 
up the particulars, I found the balance inclining 
in his favor. Throu^ihout the whole of his brief, 
turbulent, and disastrous rciirn, he irives evidence 
of a mild and amiable character. He, in the first 
instance, won the hearts of his people by his affa- 
ble and gracious manners ; he was always placa- 
ble, and never inflicted any severity of punishment 
upon those who occasionally rebelled against him. 
He was pei'sonally brave ; but wanted moral 
courage ; and, in times of difficulty and perplexity, 
was wavering and irresolute. This feebleness of 
spirit hastened his do^vnfall, while it deprived him 
of that heroic grace which would have given 
grandeur and dignity to his fate, and rendered 
him worthy of closing the splendid drama of thj 
Moslem domination in Spain. 



PUBLIC FETES OF GRANADA. 



'ff'^yB ' <^^evoted squii-e and whilom ragged ci- 
![^^^ 3| cerone Mateo Ximenes had a poor-devil 
pl^faal passion for fetes and holidays, and was 
never so eloquent as when detailing the civil and 
religious festivals at Granada. During the prep- 
arations for the annual Catholic fete of Corpus 
Christi, he was in a state of incessant transition 
between the Alhanibra and the subjacent city, 
bringing me daily accounts of the magniticent i\r- 
rangements that were in progress, and endeavor- 
inji, but in vain, to lure me down from mv cool 
and airy retreat to witness them. At length, on 
the eve of the eventful day, I yielded to his solici- 
tations and descended from the regal halls of the 
Alhambra under his escort, as did of yore the 
adventure-seeking Haroun Alraschid under that 
of his Grand Vizier Giaffar. Though it wn'S yet 
scarce sunset, the city gates were already thronged 
with the picturesque villagei'S of the mounvains, 
and the brown peasantry of the Vega. Graaada 
has ever been the rallying-place of a great moun- 
tainous region, studded with towns and villages. 
Hither, during the Moorish domination, the chiv 
airy of this region repaired, to join in the splen- 
did and semi-warlike fetes of the Vivarrambla ; 
12 



178 THE VIVARRAMBLA. 

and hither the elite of its population still resort to 
join in the pompous ceremonials of tlie Church 
Indeed, many of the mountaineers from the Al- 
puxarras and the Sierra de Ronda, who now bow 
to the cross as zealous Catholics, bear the stamp 
of their Moorish origin, and are indubitable de- 
scendants of the fickle subjects of Boabdil. 

Under the guidance of Mateo, I made my way 
through streets already teeming with a holiday 
population, to the square of the Vivarrambla, that 
great place for tilts and tourneys so often sung 
in the Moorish ballads of love and chivalry. A 
gallery oi- arcade of Avood had been erected along 
tlie sides of the square, for the grand religious 
procession of the following day. This was brill- 
iantly illuminated for the evening as a prome- 
nade ; and bands of music were stationed on bal- 
conies on each of the four facades of the square.. 
All the fashion and beauty of Granada, all of its 
population of either sex that had good looks or 
fine clothes to display, thronged this arcade, prom- 
enading round and round the Viviirrambla. Here, 
too, were the Majos and Majas, the rural beaux 
and belles, with fine forms, flashing eyes, and gay 
Andalusian costumes ; some of them from Ronda 
itself, that strong-hold of the mountains, famous 
for contrabandistas, bull-lighters, and beautiful 
Avomen. 

While this gay but motley throng kept up a 
constant circulation in the gallery, the centre of 
the square was occupied by the peasant r}^ from 
the surrounding country ; who made no preten- 
sions to disphiy, l)ut came for simple, hearty en- 



THE VIVARRAMBLA. 179 

joyment. The wliole ?qunre was covered with 
thciii ; forming separate groups of famih'es and 
neighborhoods, like gipsy encampments, some were 
listening to the traditional ballad drawled ont to 
the tinkling of the guitar ; some were engaged in 
gay conversation ; some were dancing to the click 
of the Castanet. As I threaded my way through 
this teeming region with Mateo at my heels, I 
passed occasionally some rustic party, seated on 
tliQ ground, making a merry though frugal repast. 
If they caught my eye as I loitered by, they al- 
most, invariably invited me to partake of their 
simple fare. This hospitable usage, inherited from 
their Moslem invaders, and originating in the tent 
of the Arab, is univ^ersal throughout the land, and 
observed by the poorest Spaniard. 

As the night advanced, the gayety gradually 
died away in the arcades ; the bands of music 
ceased to play, and the brilliant crowd dispersed 
to their homes. The centre of the square still 
remained well peopled, and Mateo assured me 
that the greater part of the peasantry, men, women, 
and children, would pass the night there, sleep- 
ing on the bare earth beneath the open canopy 
of heaven. Indeed, a summer night requires no 
shelter in this favored climate ; and a bed is a 
superfluity which many of the hardy peasantry 
of Spain never enjoy, and which some of them 
affect to despise. The common Spaniard wraps 
himself in his brown cloak, stretches himself on 
his manta or mule-cloth, and sleeps soundly, lux- 
uriously accommodated if he can have a saddle for 
a pillow. In a little while the words of Mateo 



180 THE PROCESSION. 

were made good ; the peasant multitude nestled 
down on the frround to their night's repose, and 
by midnight the scene on the Vivarrambla resem- 
bled the bivouac of" an army. 

The next morning, accompanied by Mateo, I 
revisited the square at sunrise. It was still 
strewed with groups of sleepers : some were re- 
posing from the dance and level of the evening j 
others, who had left theii- villages after work on 
the preceding day, having trudged on foot the 
greater part of the night, were taking a sound 
sleep to freshen themselves for ilie festivities of 
the day. o^^umbers from the mountains, and the 
remote villages of the plain, who had set out in 
the night, continued to arrive with their wives 
and children. All were in high spirits ; greeting 
each other and exciianging jokes and pleasantries. 
The gay tumult thickened as the day advanced. 
Kow came pouring in at the city gates, and pa- 
rading through the streets, the deputations from 
the various villages, destined to swell the grand 
procession. These village deputations were 
headed by their priests, bearing their respective 
crosses and banners, and images of the blessed 
Virgin and of patron saints ; all which were mat- 
ters of great rivalship and jealousy among the 
peasantry. It was like the chivalrous gatherings 
of ancient days, when each town and village sent 
its chiefs, and warriors, and standards, to defend 
the capital, or grace its festivities. 

At length all these various detachments con- 
gregated into one grand pageant, which slowly 
paraded round the Vivarrambla, and throi gh the 



THE PROCESSION. 181 

principal streets, where every window and bal- 
cony was hung with tapestry. In this procession 
were all the relij^ioiis orders, the civil and mili- 
tary autliorities, and the chief people of the par- 
ishes and villages : every church and convent had 
nontributed its banners, its images, its relics, and 
poured forth its wealth for the occasion. In the 
centre of the procession walked the archbishop, 
under a damask canopy, and surrounded by infe* 
rior dignitaries and their dependants. The whole 
moved to the swell and cadence of numerous 
bands of music, and, passing through the midst 
of a countless yet silent multitude, proceeded on- 
ward to the cathedral. 

I could not but be struck Avith the changes of 
times and customs, as I saw this monkish pag- 
eant passing through the Vivarrambla, the ancient 
seat of Moslem pomp and chivalry. The con- 
trast was indeed forced upon the mind by the 
decorations of the square. The whole front of the 
wooden gallery erected for the procession, extend- 
ins: several hundred feet, was faced with canvas, 
on which some humble though patriotic artist had 
painted, by contract, a series of the principal 
scenes and exploits of the ConquesL, as recorded 
in chronicle and romance. It is thus the roman- 
tic legends of Granada mingle themselves with 
ever3'hing, and are kept fresh in the public mind. 

As we wended our way back to the Alhambra, 
Mateo was in high glee and garrulous vein. '' Ah, 
Senor," exclaimed he, " there is no place in all 
the world like Granada for grand ceremonies 
(J'unciones grandes) ; a man need spend notliing 



182 EL DIA DE LA TO.VA. 

on pleasure here, it is all furnished him gratis.'' 
Pero, el dia de la Toma ! Ah, Senor ! el dia de la 
Toma ! " But the day of the Taking ! ah, Seiior, 
the day of the Taking ! " — that was the great day 
which crowned Mateo's notions of perfect felicity. 
The Dia de la Toma, I found, was the anniversary 
of the capture or taking possession of Granada by 
the army of Ferduiand and Isabella. 

On that day, according to Mateo, the whole 
city is abandoned to revelry. The great alarm- 
bell on the watch-tower of the Alhambra (la Torre 
de la vela) sends forth its clanging peals from 
morn till night; the souiid pervades tjie whole 
Vega, and echoes along the mountains, summon- 
ing the peasantry from far and near to the festiv- 
ities of the metropolis. " Happy the damsel," 
says Mateo, " who can get a chance to ring that 
bell ; it is a charm to insure a husband within 
the year." 

Throughout the day the Alhambra is tin-own 
open to the public. Its halls and courts, where 
the Moorish monarchs once held sway, resound 
with the guitar and castanet, and gay groups, in 
the fanciful dresses of Andalusia, perform their 
traditional dances inherited from the Moors. 

A grand procession, emblematic of the taking 
possession of the city, moves through the princi- 
pal streets. The banner of Ferdhiand and Isa- 
bella, that precious relic of the Conquest, is 
brought forth from its depository, and borne in 
triumph ])y the Alferez mayor, or grand standard- 
bearer. The portable camp-altar, carried about 
with the sovereigns in all their campaigns, ia 



THE AVE MARIA. 183 

transported into the chapel I'oyal of the cathedral, 
find placed before their sepulchre, where their ef- 
figies lie in monumental marble. High mass ia 
tlien performed in memory of the Conquest ; and 
at a certain ])art of tlie ceremony the Alferez 
mayoi' puts on his hat, and waves the standard 
above the tomb of the conquerors. 

A more whimsical memorial of the Conquest is 
exhibited in the evening at the theatre. A pop- 
ular drama is performed, entitled Ave Maria, 
turaing on a famous achievement of Hernando 
del Pulgar, surnamed " el de las Hazafias " (he 
of the exploits), a madcap warrior, the favorite 
hero of the populace of Granada. During the 
time of the siege, the young Moorish and Spanish 
cavaliers vied with each other in extravagant bra- 
vadoes. On one occasion this Hernando del 
Pulgar, at the head of a handful of followers, 
made a dash into Granada in the dead of the 
niglit, nailed tlie inscription of Ave Maria with 
his dagger to the gate of the principal mosque, 
a token of having consecrated it to the Virgin, 
and effected his retreat in safety.* 

While the Moorish cavaliers admired this dar- 
ing exploit, they felt bound to resent it. On the 
following day, therefore, Tarfe, one of the stout- 
est among them, paraded in front of the Chris- 
tian army, dragging the tablet bearing the saci ed 
'nscription Ave Maria, at his horse's tail. The 
cause of the Virgin was eagerly vindicated by 
Garcilaso de la Vega, who slew the Moor in 

* See a more detailed account of the exploit in the chro 
»'.le of the Co7tqutsl of' Granada. 



184 THE AVE MARIA. 

single combat, and elevated the tablet in devotion 
and triumph at the end of his lance. 

The drama founded on this exploit is prodigious- 
ly popular with tlie common people. Although 
it has been acted time out of mind, it never fails 
to draw crowds, who become completely lost in 
tlie delusions of tl"^e scene. When their favorile 
Pulgar strides about with many a mouthy speech, 
in the very midst of the Moorish capital, he is 
cheered with enthusiastic bravos ; and when he 
nails the tablet to the door of the mosque, the 
theatre absolutely shakes with the thunders of 
applause. On the other hand, the unlucky actors 
who figure in the part of the Moors, have to 
bear the brunt of popular indignation ; which at 
times equals that of the Hero of Lamanche, at 
the puppet-sliow of Gines de Passamonte ; for, 
when the infidel Tarfe plucks down the tablet to 
tie it to his horse's tail, some of the audience rise 
in fury, and ai'e ready to jump upon the stage to 
revenge this insult to the Virgin. 

By the way, the actual lineal descendant of 
Hernando del Pulgar was the Marquis de Salar. 
As the legitimate representative of that madcap 
hero, and in commemoration and reward of this 
hero's exploit above mentioned, he inherited the 
right to enter the cathednd on certain occasions, on 
horseback ; to sit within the choir, and to put on 
his hat at the elevation of the host, though these 
privileges were often and obstinately contested 
by the clergy. I met him occasionally in society ; 
he was young, of agreeable appearance and man- 
ners, with bright black eyes, in which appeared 



VILLAGE CEREMON'IALS. 185 

to lurk some of the fire of his ancestors. Among 
the paintings in the V^ivarrambla. on the fete of 
Corpus Christi, were some depicting, in vivid 
style, the' exploits of the family hero. An old 
gray-headed servant of the Pulgars shed tears 
on beholding them, and hurried home to inform 
tlie marquis. The eager zeal and enthusiasm of 
the old domestic only provoked a light laugh from 
liis young master ; whereupon, turning to the 
brother of the marquis, with that freedom allowed 
in Spain to old family servants, " Come, Seiior," 
cried he, " you are more considerate than your 
brotiier ; come and see your ancestor in all his 
glory ! " 

In emulation of this great Dia de la Toma of 
Granada, almost every village and petty town of 
the mountains has its own anniversary, commem- 
orating, with rustic pomp and uncouth ceremo- 
nial, its deliverance from the Moorish yoke. On 
these occasions, according to Mateo, a kind of 
resurrection takes place of ancient armor and 
weapons ; great two-handed swords, ponderous 
arquebuses with matchlocks, and other warlike 
relics, treasured up from generation to generation, 
since the time of the Conquest ; and happy the 
community that possesses some old piece of ord- 
nance, peradventure one of the identical lombards 
used by the conquerors ; it is kept thundering 
along the mountains all day long, provided the 
community can afford sufficient expenditure of 
powder. 

In the course of the day a kind of warlike 
drama is enacted. Some of the populace parade 



186 A CHE IS T I AN VIEJO. 

the streets, fitted out with the old armor, as 
champions of the faith. Others appear dressed 
up as ^Moorish .warriors. A tent is pitched in 
tlie public square, inclosing an altar with an 
image of the Virgin. The Christian warriors 
approach to perform their devotions ; the infidels 
suiTound the tent to prevent their entrance ; a 
mock fight ensues ; the combatants sometimes fi)r- 
get that they are merely playing a part, and dry 
blows of grievous weight are apt to be exchanged. 
The contest, however, invariably terminates in 
favor of the good cause. The Moors are de- 
feated and taken prisoners. The image of the 
Virgin, rescued from thraldom, is elevated in 
triumph ; a grand procession succeeds, in which 
the conquerors figure with great applause and 
vainglory ; while tlieir captives are led in chains, 
to the evident delight and edification of the spec- 
tators. 

These celebrations are heavy drains on the 
treasuries of these petty communities, and have 
sometimes to be suspended for want of funds ; 
but, when times grow better, or sufficient money 
has been hoarded for the purpose, they are re- 
sumed with new zeal and prodigality. 

Mateo informed me that he had occasionally 
assisted at these fetes and taken a part in the 
conjbats ; but always on the side of the truo 
faith ; jporque SeTior^ added the ragged descendant 
of the Cardinal Ximenes, tapping his breast with 
something of an air, — ^' porque SeTior, soy Chris- 
tiano viejo." 




LOCAL TPtADITIO:N^S. 




HE common people of Spain have im 
Oriental passion for story-telling, and 
are fond of the marvellous. They will 
gather round the doors of tlieir cottages in sum- 
mer evenings, or in the great cavernous chimney- 
corners of the ventas in the winter, and listen with 
insatiable delight to miraculous legends of saints, 
perilous adventures of travellers, and daring ex- 
ploits of robbers and contrabandistas. The wild 
and solitary character of the country, the imperfect 
diffusion of knowledge, the scarceness of general 
topics of conversation, and the romantic adven- 
turous life that every one leads in a land where 
ti'avelling is yet in its primitive state, all con- 
tribute to cherish this love of oral narration, and 
to produce a strong infusion of the extravagant 
and incredible. There is no theme, however, 
more prevalent and popular than that of treasures 
buried by the Moors ; it pervades the whole 
country. In traversing the wild sierras, the 
scenes of ancient foray and exploit, you cannot 
see a Moorish atalaya, or watch-tower, perclied 
among the cliffs, or beetling above its rock-built 
village, but your muleteer, on being closely ques- 
tioned, will suspend the smoking of his cigarillo 



188 BURIED TREASURE. 

to tell some tale of Moslem gold buried beneath 
its foundations ; nor is there a ruined alcazar in 
a city but has its golden tradition, handed do\Mi 
from generation to generation among tlie poor 
people of the neighborhood. 

These, like most popidar fictions, have sprung 
from some scanty groundwork of fact. During 
the wars between Moor and Christian, which 
distracted this country for centuries, towns and 
castles were liable frequently and suddenly to 
change owners, and the inhabitants, diu'ing sieges 
and assaults, were fain to bury their money and 
jewels in the earth, or hide them in vaults and 
wells, as is often done at the present day in the 
despotic and belligerent countries of the East. 
At the time of the expulsion of the Moors also, 
many of them concealed their most precious 
effects, hoping that their exile would be but tem- 
porary, and that they would be enabled to return 
and reti'ieve their treasures at some future day. 
It is certain that from time to time hoards of 
gold and silver coin have been accidentally digged 
up, after a lapse of centuries, from among the ruins 
of Moorish fortresses and habitations ; and it 
requires but a few facts of the kind to give birth 
to a thousand fictions. 

The stories thus originating have generally 
something of an Oriental tinge, and are marked 
with that mixture of the Arabic and the Gothic 
which seems to me to characterize everything in 
Spain, and especially in its southern provinces. 
The hidden wealth is always laid under magic 
spell, and secured by charm and talisman. Some- 



MARVELLOUS rRADlTIONS. 189 

times it is guarded by uncouth monsters or 
fiery dragons, sometimes by enchanted Moors, 
who sit by it in armor, with drawn swords, but 
motionless as statues, maintaining a sleepless 
watch for ages. 

Tlie Alhambra of course, from the peculiar 
circumstances of its history, is as trong-hold for 
popular fictions of the kind ; and various relics, 
digged up from time to time, have contributed 
to strengthen tliem. At one time an earthen 
vessel was found containing Moorish coins and 
the skeleton of a cock, which, according to tlie 
opinion of certain shrewd inspectors, must have 
been buried alive. At another time a vessel was 
dug up containing a great scarabiEus or beetle 
of baked clay, covered with Arabic inscriptions, 
which was pronounced a prodigious amulet of 
occult virtues. In this way the wits of the 
ragged brood who inhabit tli(^ Alhambra have 
been set wool-gathering, until there is not a hall, 
nor tower, nor vault, of the old fortress, that has 
not been made the scene of some marvellous tra- 
dition. Having, I trust, in the preceding papers 
made the reader in some degree familiar with the 
localities of the Alhambra, 1 shall now launch out 
more largely into the wonderful legends connected 
with it, and which 1 have diligently wrought into 
shape and form, from various legendary scraps and 
hints picked up in the course of my perambida- 
tions, — in the same manner that an anti{iuary 
^'orks out a regular historical document from a iaw 
scattered letters of an almost defaced inscription. 

If anything in these legends should shock the 



190 MARVELLOUS TRADITIONS. 

faith of the over-scrupulous reader, he must re- 
member the nature of tlie place, and make due 
allowances. He must not expect here the same 
laws of probability that govern, commonplace 
scenes and every-day life ; he ' must remember 
that he treads the halls of an enchanted pal.'K^e, 
and (hat all is " haunted ground." 





THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK. 




X the brow of tlie lofty hill of the Al 
baycin, the higliest part of Granada, 
and which rises from the narrow valley 
of the Darro, directly opposite to the Alhambra, 
stands all that is left of what was once a royal 
palace of the Moors. It has, in fact, fallen into 
such obscurity, that it cost me much trouble to find 
it, thou_2h aided in my researches by the sagacious 
and all-knowing Mateo Ximenes. This edifice 
has borne for centuries the name of "The House 
of the Weathercock" (La casa del Gallo de 
Viento), from a bronze figure on one of its tur- 
rets, in ancient times, of a warrior on horseback, 
and turning with every breeze. This weather- 
cock was considered by the jMoslems of Granada 
a portentous talisman. According to some tradi- 
tions, it bore the following Arabic inscription : 

Calet el Bedici Aben Habuz, 

Quidat ehahet Lindubuz. 

Which has been rendered into Spanish : 

Dice el sabio Abcn Habuz, 
Que asi se defiende el Audulua. 

And into English : 



192 THM TALISMAN. 

In this way, says Aben Habus the Wise, 
Audaluz guards against surprise. 

This Aben Habuz, according to some of the 
old Moorish chronicles, was a captain in the in- 
vading army of Taric, one of the conquerors of 
Spain, who left him as Alcayde of Granada. He 
is supposed to have intended this effigy as a per- 
petual warning to the Moslems of Andaluz, that, 
surrounded by foes, their safety depended upon 
tlieir being always on their guard and ready for 
the field. 

Others among whom is the Christian historian 
Marmol, affirms "■ Badis Aben Habus " to ha^'e 
been a Moorish sultan of Granada, and that the 
weathercock was intended as a perpetual admo- 
nition of the instability of Moslem power, bearing 
the following Avords in Arabic : 

" Thus Ibn Habus al badise predicts Andalus 
shall one day vanish and pass away." * 

Another version of this portentous inscription 
is given by a Moslem historian, on the authority 
of Sidi Hasan, a faquir who flourished about the 
time of Ferdinand and Isabella, and who was 
present at the taking down of the weathercock, 
when the old Kassaba was undergoing repairs. 

" 1 saw it," says the venerable faquir, " with 
my own eyes ; it was of a heptagonal shape, and 
had the following inscription in verse : 

" The palace at fair Granada presents a talis- 
man." 

" The horseman, though a solid body, turns 
ivith every v/ind." 

* Marmol, Uist. RtbtUion of the Moors. 



THE TEMPEST. 193 

" Tills to a wi?:e man reveals a mystery. In 
a little wliile comes a calamity to ruin botli tlie 
palace and its ownei'." 

In effect it was not long after this meddling 
Avith the portentous weathercock that the ibliow- 
iiig event occurred. As old Muley Abul Hassan, 
the king of Granada, was seated under a sumpt- 
uous pavilion, reviewing his troops, who paraded 
before him iji armor of polished steel and gor- 
geous silken robes, mounted on fleet steeds, and 
equipped with swords, spears, and shields em- 
bossed with gold and silver, — suddenly a tem- 
pest was seen hurrying from the southwest. In 
a little while black clouds overshadowed the 
heavens and burst forth with a deluge of rain. 
Torrents came roaring down from the mountains, 
bringing with them rocks and trees ; the Darro 
overflowed its banks ; mills were swept away, 
bridges destroyed, gardens laid waste ; the inun- 
dation rushed into the city, undermining houses, 
drowning their inhabitants, and overflowing even 
the square of the Great Mosque. The people 
rushed in affright to the mosques to implore the 
mercy of Allah, regarding this uproar of the 
elements as the harbinger of dreadful calamities ; 
and, indeed, according to the Arabian historian 
Al jMakkari, it was but a type and prelude of 
the direful war which ended in the downfall of 
the Moslem kingdom of Granada. 

I have thus given historic authorities sufficient 
to show the portentous mysteries connected with 
the House of the Weathercock, and its talismanic 
horseman. 



194 ABEN HABUZ. 

I iiOAY proceed to relate still more surprising 
tilings about Abeii Habuz and his palace ; for 
the truth of which, should any doubt be enter- 
tained, I refer the dubious reader to Mateo 
Ximenes and his fellow-historiographers of tlie 
Alhambra. 






LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGEK 

,N old times, many hnndred years ago, 
there was a Moorish king named Aben 
I' Habuz, who reigned over the kingdom 
of Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that 
is to say, one who, having in his more youthful 
days led a life of constant foray and depredation, 
now that he was grown feeble and superannuated, 
" languished for repose," and desired nothing 
more than to live at peace with all the Avorld, to 
husband his laurels, and to enjoy in quiet the 
possessions he had wrested from his neighbors. 

It so happened, however, that this most rea- 
sonable and pacific old monarch had young rivals 
to deal with ; princes full of his early passion 
for fame and fighting, and who were disposed to 
call him to account for the scores he had run up 
with their fathers. Certain distant disti'icts of 
his own territories, also, which during the days 
of his vigor he had treated with a high hand, 
were prone, now that he languished for repose, to 
rise in rebellion and threaten to invest him in 
his capital. Thus he had foes on every side ; 
and as Granada is surrounded by wild and craggy 
mountains, which hide the approach of an enemy, 



106 IBRAHIM EBN ABU AYUB. 

the uufortuunte Abeii Habuz was kept in a con- 
stant state of vigilance and alarm, not knowing 
in what quarter hostilities might break out. 

It was in vain that he built watch-towers on 
the mountains, and stationed guards at every pass 
with orders to make fires by night and smoke by 
day, on the approach of an enemy. His alert 
foes, baffling every precaution, would break out 
of some unthought-of defile, ravage his lands 
beneath his very nose, and then make off with 
prisoners and booty to the mountains. Was ever 
peaceable and retired conqueror in a more uncom- 
fortable predicament ? 

While Aben Habuz was harassed by these per- 
plexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian 
physician arrived at his court. His gray beard 
descended to his girdle, and he had every mark 
of extreme age, yet he had travelled almost the 
whole way from Egypt on foot, with no other aid 
than a staff, marked with hieroglyphics. His 
fame had preceded him. His name was Ibrahim 
Ebn Abu Ayub ; he was said to have lived ever 
since the days of Mahomet, and to be son of 
Abu Ayub ; the last of the companions of the 
Prophet. He had, when a child, followed the 
conquering army of Amru into Egypt, where he 
had remained many years studying the dark 
sciences, and particularly magic, among the Egyp- 
tian priests. 

It was, moreover, said that he had found out 
(he secret of prolonging life, by means of which 
he had arrived to the great age of upwards of 
two centuries, though, as he did not discover the 



THE MARVEL OF BORSA. 197 

secret until well stricken in years, he could only 
perpetuate his gray liairs and wnnkles. 

This wonderful old man was honorably enter- 
tained by the king ; who, like most superannu- 
ated monarclis, began to take physicians into great 
favor. He would have assigned him an apart- 
ment in his palace, but the astrologer preferred a 
cave in the side of the hill which rises above the 
city of Granada, being the same on which the 
Alhambra has since been built. He caused tlie 
cave to be enlarged so as to form a spacious and 
lofty hall, with a circular hole at the top, through 
which, as through a well, he could see the heavens 
and behold the stars even at mid-day. Th^- 
walls of this hall were covered with Egyptian 
hieroglyphics with cabalistic symbols, and with 
the ii<xures of the stars in their sio;ns. This hal' 
he furnished with many implements, fabricated 
under his directions by cunning artificers of 
Granada, but the occult properties of which were 
known only to himself. j 

In a little while the sage Ibrahim became the \ 

bosom counsellor of the king, who applied to him 
for advice in every emergency. Aben Habuz 
was once inveighing against the Injustice of his 
neighbors, and bewailing the restless vigilance he 
liad to observe to guard himself against their iu- 
vasions ; when he had finished, the astrologer 
remained silent for a moment, and then replied, 
'' Know, king, that, when I was in Egypt, I 
beheld a great marvel devised by a pagan priestess 
Df old. On a mountain, above the city of Borsa, 
and overlooking the great valley of the Nile^ 



198 THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE. 

was a figure of a ram, and above it a figure of 
a cock, both of molten brass, and turning upon a 
pivot. Whenever the country was threatened 
with invasion, the ram would turn in the direction 
of the enemy, and the cock would crow ; upon 
this the inhabitants of the city knew of the dan- 
ger, and of the quarter from which it was ap- 
proaching, and could take timely means to guard 
against it." 

" God is great ! " exclaimed the pacific Aben 
Habuz, " what a treasure would be such a ram 
to keep an eye upon these mountains around me ; 
and then such a cock, to crow in time of danger ! 
Allah Akbar ! how securely I might sleep in my 
palace with such sentinels on the top I " 

The astrologer waited until the ecstasies of the 
king had subsided, and then proceeded. 

" After the victorious Amru (may he rest in 
peace !) had finished his conquest of Egypt, 1 
remained among the priests of the land, studying 
the rites and ceremonies of their idolatrous faith, 
and seeking to make myself master of the hidden 
knowledge for which they are renowned. I was 
one day seated on the banks of the Nile, convers- 
ing with an ancient priest, when he pointed to 
the mighty pyramids which rose like mountains 
out of the neighboring desert. * All that we can 
teach thee,' said he, ' is nothing to the knowledge 
locked up in those mighty piles. In the centre 
of the central pyramid is a sepulchral chamber, 
in which is enclosed the mummy of the high- 
priest who aided in rearing tbat stupendous 
p le ; and with liim is bui'ied a wondrous book 



THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE. 199 

of knowledge, containing all the secrets of magic 
and ai-t. This book was given to Adam after 
his fall, and was handed down from generation lo 
generation to King Solomon the Wise, and by its 
aid he built the Temple of Jerusalem. -How it 
came into the possession of the builder of the 
pyramids is known to Him alone who knows all 
things.' 

" When I heard these words of the Egyptian 
priest, my heart burned to get possession of that 
book. I could command the services of many of 
the soldiers of our conquering army, and of a num- 
ber of the native Egyptians : with these I set to 
work, and pierced the solid mass of the pyramid, 
until, after great toil, I came upon one of its inte- 
rior and hidden passages. Following this up, and 
threading a fearful labyrinth, I penetrated into 
tlie very heart of tlie pyramids, even to the se- 
pulchral chamber, where the mummy of the high- 
priest had lain for ages. I broke through the 
outer cases of the mummy, unfolded its many 
wrappers ai^d bandages, and at length found the 
precious volume on its bosom. I seized it with 
a trembling hand, and groped my way out of the 
pyramid, leaving the mummy in its dark and 
silent sepulchre, there to await the final day of 
resurrection and judgment." 

" Son of Abu Ayub " exclaimed Aben Habuz, 
" thou hast been a great traveller, and seen mar 
velluus things ; but of what avail to me is the 
secret of the pyramid, and the volume of knowl- 
edge of the wise Solomon ? " 

" This it is, O king ! By the study of that book 



200 THE MAGIC TOWER. 

I am instrnctecl in all magic arts, and can com- 
mand the assistance of genii to accomplish my 
plans. The mystery of the Talisman of Borsa 
i» therefore familiar to me, and such a talisman 
can I Hflake, nay, one of greater virtues." 

"() wise son of Abu Ayub," cried Aben Ha- 
l)uz, " better were such a talisman than all the 
watch-towers on the hills, and sentinels upon the 
borders. Give me such a safeguard, and the 
riches of my treasury are at thy command." 

The astrologer immediately set to work to 
gratify the wishes of the monarch. He caused 
a great tower to be erected upon the top of the 
royal palace, which stood on the brow of the hill 
of the Albaycin. The tower was built of stones 
brought from Egypt, and taken, it is said, from 
one of the pyramids. In the upper part of the 
tower was a circular hall, with windows looking 
towards every point of the compass, and before 
each window was a table, on which was arranged, 
as on a chess-board, a mimic army of horse and 
foot, with the effigy of the potentat^i that ruled 
in that direction, all carved of wood. To each 
of these tables there was a small lance, no bigger 
than a bodkin, on which were engraved certain 
Chaldaic characters. This hall was kept con- 
stantly closed, by a gate of brass, with a great 
lock of steel, the key of which was in possession 
of the king. 

On tlie top of the tower was a bronze figure 
of a Moorish horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a 
shield on one arm, and his lance elevated perpen- 
dicularly. The face of this horseman was to- 



THE WARLIKE TALISMAN. 201 

ivards the city, as if keeping guard over it ; but 
if any foe were at hand, the figure would turn 
in that direction, and would level the lance as if 
for action. 

When this talisnuui was finished, Aben liabuz 
was all impatient to try its virtues, and longed 
as ardently for an invasion as he had ever sighed 
after repose. His desire was soon gratified. 
""J'idings were brought, early one morning, by the 
sentinel appointed to watch the tower, that the 
fiice of the bronze horseman was turned towards 
the mountahis of Elvira, and that his lance 
pointed directly against the Pass of Lope. 

" Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, 
and all Granada be put on the alert," said Aben 
Habuz. 

"' O king," said the astrologer, ^ let not your 
city be disquieted, nor your warriors called to 
arms ; we need no aid of force to deliver you 
from your enemies. Dismiss your attendants, and 
let us proceed alone to the secret hall of the 
tower." 

The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the stair- 
case of tlie tower, leaning on the arm of the still 
more ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub. They 
unlocked the brazen door and entered. The win- 
dow that looked towards the Pass of Lope was 
open. " Tn this direction," said the astrologer, 
'' lies the danger ; approach, O king, and behold 
the mystery of the table." 

King Aben Habuz approached the seeming 
chess-board, on which were arranged the small 
wooden efiigies, when, to his surprise, he perceived 



202 WAR IN EFFIGY. 

tliat the}' wei'e all in motion. The horses pranced 
and curveted, the Avarriors brandished their weap- 
ons, and there was a faint sound of drums and 
trumpets, and the clang of arms, and neighing of 
steeds ; but all no louder, nor more distinct, than 
the hum of the bee, or the summer-fly, in the 
drowsy ear of him who lies at noontide in the 
shade. 

" Behold, king," said the astrologer, " a 
proof that thy enemies are even now in the field. 
They must be adv^ancing through yonder moun- 
tains, by the Pass of Lope. AVould you produce 
a panic and confusion amongst them, and cause 
them to retreat witliout loss of life, strike these 
effigies with the but-end of this magic lance ; 
would you cause bloody feud and carnage, strike 
witli the point." 

A livid streak passed across the countenance 
of Aben Habuz ; he seized the lance with trem- 
bling eagerness ; his gray beard wagged with ex- 
ultation as he tottered toward the table : " Son 
of Abu Ayub," exclaimed he. in chuckling tone, 
" I think we will have a little blood ! " 

So saying, he thrust the magic lance into some 
of ihe pigmy effigies, and belabored others with 
the but-end, upon which the former fell as dead 
upon the board, and the rest turning upon eacli 
other, began, pell-mell, a chance-medley fight. 

It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay 
(he hand of the most pacific of monarchs, and 
] ties cut liim from absolutely exterminating his 
l'(/(*s ; at length he prevailed upon him to leave 
[l:e tower, and to send out bcouts to the mountains 
bv tlie Pass of Lope. 



THE nERMITAGE. 203 

The;^ returned with the intelligence that a 
Christian army had advanced through tiie heart 
of the Sierra, almost within sight of Granada^ 
where a dissension had broken out among them ; 
they liad turned their weapons against each otlier, 
and {liter much slaughter had retreated over tiie 
border. 

A])en Habuz was transported with joy on thus 
proving the etiicacy of the talisman. '" At length," 
said he, "I shall lead a life of tranquillity, and 
have all my enemies in my power. O wise son 
of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow on thee in re- 
ward for such a blessing ? " 

"• The wants of an old man and a philosopher, 
O king, are few and simple ; grant me but the 
means of fitting up my cave as a suitable hermi- 
tage, and I am content." 

'' How noble is the moderation of the truly 
wise 1 " exclaimed Aben Habuz, secretly pleased 
at the cheapness of the recompense. He sum- 
moned his treasurer, and bade him dispense what- 
ever sums might be required by Ibrahim to com- 
plete and fui'nish his hermitage. 

The astrologer now gave orders to have various 
chambers liewn out of the* solid i-ock, so as to 
form ]-anges of apartments connected with his 
astrological hall ; these he caused to be furnished 
with luxurious ottomans and divans, and the 
walls to be hung with the richest silks of Da- 
mascus, "-lam an old man," said he, '-and can 
'10 longer rest my bones on stone couches, and 
these damp walls retpiire covering." 

He had baths tiio con.-ti'ucted, and provided 



204 THE SOLACE OF A PHILOSOPHER. 

with all kinds of perfumes and aromatic oils 
" For a bath," said he, '•■ is necessary to counter- 
act the rigidity of age, and to restore freshness 
and suppleness to the frame withered by study." 

He caused the apartments to be hung with in 
numerable silver and crystal lamps, which he 
filled with a fragrant oil prepared according to a 
receipt discovered by him in the tombs of Egypt. 
This oil was perpetual in its nature, and ditfused 
a soft radiance like the tempered light of day. 
" The light of the sun," said he, " is too gairish 
and violent for the eyes of an old man, and the 
liglit of the lamp is more congenial to the studies 
of a philosopher." 

The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned 
at the sums daily demanded to fit up this hermi 
tage, and he carried his complaints to the king. 
The royal word, however, had been given ; Abeu 
Habuz shrugged his shoulders : " We must have 
patience," said he ; " this old man has taken his 
idea of a philosophic retreat from the interior of 
the pyramids, and of the vast ruins of Egypt ; 
but all things have an end, and so will the fur- 
nishing of his cavern." 

The king was in the right ; the hermitao-e was 
at length complete, and formed a sumptuous sub- 
terranean palace. The astrologer expressed him- 
self perfectly content, and, shutting himself up, 
remained for three whole days buried in study. 
At the end of that time he appeared again before 
the treasurer. '■' One thing more is necessary," 
said he, " one trifling solace for the intervals of 
mental labor." 



THE SOLACE OF A PHILOSOPHER. 205 

" O wise Ibrahim, I am bound to furnish every- 
tliing necessary for thy solitude ; what more dost 
thou require ? " 

" I would fain have a few dancing-women." 

" Dancing-women ! " echoed the treasurer, with 
surprise. 

" Dancing-women," replied the sage, gravely ; 
'' and let them be young and fair to look upon ; 
for the sight of youth and beauty is refreshing. 
A few will suffice, for I am a philosopher of 
simple habits and easily satisfied." 

While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub 
passed his time thus sagely in his hermitage, the 
pacific Aben Habuz carried on furious campaigns 
in effigy in his tower. It was a glorious thing 
for an old man, like himself, of quiet habits, to 
have war made easy, and to be enabled to amuse 
himself in his chamber by brusliing away whole 
ai-mies like so many swarms of flies. 

For a time he rioted in the indulgence of his 
humors, and even taunted and insulted his neigh- 
bors, to induce them to make incursions ; but by 
degrees they grew wary from repeated disasters, 
until no one ventured to invade his territories. 
For many months the bronze horseman remained 
on the peace establishment, with his lance elevated 
in the air ; and the worthy old monarch began to 
repine at the want of his accustomed sport, and to 
glow peevish at his monotonous tranquillity. 

At length, one day, the talismanic horseman 
veered suddenly round, and lowering his lance, 
made a dead point towards the mountains of 
Guadix. Aben Ilabuz hastened to his tower 



206 THE CAPTIVE BEAUTY. 

but the rnagic table in that direction remained 
quiet : not a single warrior was in motion. Per- 
plexed at the circumstance, he sent forth a troop 
of horse to scour the mountains and reconnoitre. 
They returned after three days' absence. 

" We have searched every mountain pass," said 
they, •' but not a helm nor spear was stirring. 
All that we have found in the course of our fo- 
ray, was a Christian damsel of surpassing beauty, 
sleeping at noontide beside a fountain, whom we 
have brought away captive." 

" A damsel of surpassing beauty ! " exclaimed 
Aben Habuz, his eyes gleaming with animation ; 
" let her be conducted into my presence." 

The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted 
into his presence. She was arrayed with all the 
luxury of ornament that had prevailed among 
the Gothic Spaniards at the time of the Arabian 
conquest. Pearls of dazzling whiteness were 
entwined with her raven tresses ; and jewels 
sparkled on her forehead, rivalling the lustre of 
her eyes. Around her neck was a golden chain, 
to which was suspended a silver lyre, which hung 
by her side. 

The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were 
like sparks of fire on the withered yet combusti- 
ble, heart of Aben Habuz ; the swimming volup- 
tuousness of her gait made his senses reel. 
" Fairest of women," cried he, with rapture, " who 
Rnd what art thou ? " 

" The daughter of one of the Gothic princes, 
who but lately ruled over this land. Tiie armies 
of ray father have been destroyed, as if by magic, 



THE CAPTlVi: BEAUTY. 207 

among tlicse mountains ; le has been driven into 
exile, and his daughter is a captive." 

" Beware, O king ! " whispered Ibraliim Ebri 
Abu Ayub, " this may be one of those nortliern 
sorceresses of whom we have heard, who assume 
the most seductive forms to beguile the unwary. 
Methmks I read witchcraft in her eye, and sorcery 
in every movement. Doubtless tiiis is the enemy 
pointed out by the talisman." 

" Son of Abu Ayub," replied the king, " thou 
art a wise man, 1 grant, a conjuror for aught I 
know ; but thou art little versed in the ways 
of woman. In that knowledge will I yield to 
no man ; no, not to the Avise Solomon himself, 
notwithstanding the number of his wives and 
concubines. As to this damsel, I see no harm in 
her ; she is fair to look upon, and finds favor in 
ray eyes." 

"• Hearken, O king ! " replied the astrologer. 
" I have given thee many victories by means of 
my talisman, but have never shared any of the 
spoik Give me then this stray captive, to solace 
me in my solitude with her silver lyre. If she 
be indeed a sorceress, I have counter spells that 
set her charms at defiance." 

"• What ! more women ! " cried Aben Habuz. 
" Hast thou not already dancing-women enough 
to solace thee ? " 

" Dancing- women have I, it is true, but no 
singing-women. I would fain have a little min- 
strelsy to refresh my mind when weary with the 
toils of study." 

" A truce with thy hc'rrait cravings," said the 



208 THE CAPTIVE BEAUTY. 

king, impatiently. " This damsel have I marked 
for my own. I see much comfort in her; even 
such comfort as David, the flither of Solomon 
the Wise, found in the society of Abishag the 
Shunamite." 

Further solicitations and remonstrances of tJie 
astrologer only provoked a more peremptory reply 
from the monarch, and they parted in high dis- 
[>le;l^^ure. The sage shut himself up in his her- 
mitage to brood over his disappointment ; ere he 
departed, however, he gave the king one more 
warning to beware of his dangerous captive. 
But where is the old man in love that will listen 
to counsel ? Aben Habuz resigned himself to 
the full sway of his passion. His only study 
was how to render himself amiable in the eyes 
of the Gotiiic beauty. He had not youth to rec- 
ommend him, it is true, but then he had riches ; 
and when a lover is old, he is generally generous. 
The Zacatin of Granada was ransacked for the 
most precious merchandise of the East ; silks, 
jewels, precious gems, exquisite perfumes, all 
that Asia and Africa yielded of rich and rare, 
were lavished upon the ' princess. All kinds of 
spectacles and festivities were devised for her 
entertainment ; minstrelsy, dancing, tournament*, 
bull-tights ; — Granada for a time was a scene 
of perpetual pageant. The Gothic princess re- 
garded all this sple;idor with the air of one ace us- 
tomed to magnificence. She received everything 
as a homage due to her rank, or rather to her 
beauty ; for beauty is more lofty in its exactions 
even than rank. Nay, she seemed to take a secret 



TEE SILVER LYRE. 209 

pleasure in exciting the monarch to expenses that 
made his treasury shrink, and then treating his 
extravagant generosity as a mere matter of course. 
With all his assiduity and munificence, also, the 
venerable lover could not flatter himself that be 
had made any impression on her heart. She 
never frowned on him, it is true, but then she 
never smiled. Whenever he began to plead his 
passion, she struck her silver lyre. There wds a 
mystic charm in the sound. In an instant the 
monarch began to nod ; a drowsiness stole over 
him, and he gradually sank into a sleep, from 
which he awoke wonderfully refreshed, but per- 
fectly cooled for the time of his passion. This 
was very baffling to his suit ; but then these 
slumbers were accompanied by agreeable dreams, 
which completely inthralled the senses of the 
drowsy lover ; so he continued to dream on, while 
all Granada scoffed at his infatuation, and groaned 
at the treasures lavished for a song. 

At length a danger burst on the head of Aben 
Habuz, against which his talisman yielded him 
no warning. An insurrection broke out in his 
very capital ; his palace was surrounded by an 
armed rabble, who menaced his life and the life of 
his Christian paramour. A spark of his ancient 
warlike spirit was awakened in the breast of the 
monarch. At the head of a handful of his 
guards he sallied forth, put the rebels to flight, 
and crushed the insurrection in the bud. 

Wlien quiet was again restored, he sought the 
astrologer, who still remained shut up in his her- 
mitage, chewing the bitter cud of resentment 
U 



210 THE GARDEN OF I REM, 

Aben Habiiz approached him witli a concilia^ 
tory tone. " wise sou of Abu Ayub," said he, 
" well didst thou predict dangers to me from 
this captive beauty : tell me then, thou who art 
80 (i[uick at foreseeing peril, what I should do to 
a^ crt it." 

" Put from thee the infidel damsel who is the 
cause." 

'• Sooner would I part with my kingdom," 
cried Aben Habuz. 

'•' Thou art in danger of losing both," replied 
the astrologer. 

" Be not harsh and angry, O most profound of 
philosophers ; consider tlie double distress of a 
n^.onarch and a lover, and devise some means of 
protecting me from the evils by which I aui 
menaced. I care not for gmndeiu', I care noi 
for power, I languish only for repose ; avouIq 
that I had some quiet retreat where I might take 
refuge from the world, and all its cai'es, and 
pomps, and troubles, and devote the remainder 
of my days to tranquillity and love." 

The astrologer regarded him for a moment 
from under his bushy eyebrows. 

" And what wouldst thou give, if I could pro- 
vide thee such a retreat ?" 

" Thou shouldst name thy own rewai'd ; and 
whatever it might be, if within the scope of n\y 
power, as my soul liveth, it should be thine." 

'• Thou hast heard, O king, of the pirdcni 
of Irem, one of the prodigies of Arabia the 
happy." 

" I have heard of that jrarden : it is reanxled 



THE GARDEN OF I REM. 211 

in 'he Koran, even in the eliapter entitled ' The 
Dtiwn of Day.' I have, raoi-eover, heard mar- 
vellous things rehued of it by pilgrims who had 
been to Mecca; but I considered them wild 
fables, such as travellers are wont to tell wdic 
liave visited remote countries." 

" Discredit not, O king, the tales of travellers." 
rejoined the astrologer, gravely, " for they contain 
piecious rarities of knowdedge brought from the 
ends of the earth. As to the palace and garden 
of Irem, what is generally told of them is true ; 
I have seen them with mine own eyes ; — listen 
to my adventure, for it has a bearing upon the 
object of your request. 

" In my younger days, when a mere Arab of 
the desert, I tended my father* s camels. In 
traversing the desert of Aden, one of them 
strayed from the rest, and w^as lost. I searched 
after it for several days, but in vain, until, 
wearied and faint, I laid myself downi at noon- 
tide, and slept under a palm-tree by the side of a 
scanty well. When I awoke I found myself at 
the gate of a city. I entered, and beheld noble 
streets, and squares, and market-places ; but all 
w'ere silent and without an inhabitant. I w^an- 
dered on until I came to a sumptuous palace, 
wath a garden adorned with fountains and fish- 
ponds, and groves and flowers, and orchards 
laden with delicious fruit ; but still no one was 
to be seen. Upon which, appalled at this lone- 
liness, I hastened to depart ; and, after issuing 
forth at the gate of the city, I turned to look 
upon the place, but it was no longer to be seen, 



212 THE GARDEN OF IREM. 

nothing but the silent desert extended before mv 
eyes. 

" In the neighborhood I met with an aged 
dervise, learned in the traditions and secrets of 
the land, and related to him what had befallen 
me. ' This,' said he, ' is the far-famed garden of 
Irem, one of the wonders of the desert. It only 
appears at times to some wanderer like thyself, 
gladdening him with the sight of towers and 
palaces and garden-walls overhung with richly- 
laden fruit-trees, and then vanishes, leaving noth- 
ing but a lonely desert. And this is the story of 
it. In old times, when this country was inhabited 
by the Addites, King Sheddad, the son of Ad, 
the great - grandson of Noah, founded here a 
splendid city. When it was finished, and he 
saw its grandeur, his heart was puffed up with 
pride and arrogance, and he determined to build 
a royal palace, with gardens which should rival 
all related in the Koran of the celestial para- 
dise. But the curse of heaven fell upon him 
for his presumption. He and his subjects were 
swept from the earth, and his splendid city, 
and palace, and gardens, were laid under a 
perpetual spell, which hides them from human 
sight, excepting that they are seen at intervals, 
by way of keeping his sin in perpetual remem- 
brance.' 

" This story, O king, and the wonders I had 
seen, ever dwelt in my mind ; and in after-years, 
when I had been in Egypt, and was possessed of 
the book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, 1 
determined to return and revisit the garden of 



THE COMPACT. 213 

Irem. I did so, and found it revealed to my in- 
Btructed sight. I took possession of the palace 
of Sheddad, and passed several days in his mock 
paradise. The genii who watch over the place 
were obedient to my magic power, and revealed to 
me the spells by which the whole garden had 
been, as it were, conjured into existence, and by 
which it was rendered invisible. Such a palace 
and garden, O king, can I make for thee, even 
here, on the mountain above thy city. Do I 
not know all the secret spells ? and am I not in 
possession of the book of knowledge of Solomon 
the Wise ? " 

" O wise son of Abu Ayub ! " exclaimed 
Aben Habuz, trembling with eagerness, " thou art 
a traveller indeed, and hast seen and learned mar- 
vellous things ! Contrive me such a paradise, and 
ask any reward, even to the half of my kingdom." 
" Alas ! " replied the other, " thou knowest I 
am an old man, and a philosopher, and easily sat- 
isfied ; all the reward I ask is the first beast of 
burden, with its load, which shall enter the magic 
portal of the palace." 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a 
stipulation, and the astrologer began liis work. 
On the summit of the hill, immediately above his 
subterranean hermitage, he caused a great gate- 
way or barbican to be erected, opening through 
the centre of a strong tower. 

There was an outer vestibule or porch, with 
a lofty arch, and within it a portal secured by 
massive gates. On the keystone of the portal 
'he astrologer, with his ow^n hand, wrougiit the 



214 THE CHARMED PALACE. 

figure of a huge key ; and on the keystone of 
the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier 
than that of the portal, he carved a gigantic 
hand. These were potent talismans, over which 
he repeated many sentences in an unknown 
tongue. 

When this gateway was finished, he shut him- 
self up for two days in his astrological hall, en- 
gaged in secret incantations ; on the third he 
ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on 
its summit. At a late hour of the night he came 
down, and presented himself before Aben Habuz. 
" At length, O king," said he, " my labor is ac- 
complished. On the summit of the hill stands 
one of the most delectable palaces that ever the 
head of man devised, or the heart of man desired. 
It contains sumptuous halls and galleries, delicious 
gardens, cool fountains, and fragrant baths ; in a 
word, the whole mountain is converted into a 
paradise. Like the garden of Irem, it is pro- 
tected by a mighty charm, which hides it from 
the view and search of mortals, excepting such as 
possess the secret of its talismans." 

" Enough ! " cried Aben Habuz, joyfully, " to- 
morrow morning with the first lioht we will 
ascend and take possession." The happy mon- 
arch slept but little that night. Scarcely had 
the rays of the sun begun to play about tlie 
Bnowy summit of the Sierra Nevada, when he 
mounted his steed, and, accompanied only by a 
few chosen attendants, ascended a steep and 
narrow road leading up the hill. Beside him, on 
a white palfrey, rode the Gothic princess, her 



THE TA L ISM A i\ S. 215 

whole dress sparkling with jewels, while round 
her neck was suspended her silver lyre. The 
{istrolo":er walked on the other side of the kinsr, 
assisting his steps with his hieroglyphic staff, for 
he never mounted steed of any kind. 

Aben Habiiz looked to see the towers of the 
pidace brightening above him, and the embow- 
ered terraces of its gardens stretching along the 
heights ; but as yet notliing of the kind was to 
be descried. " That is the mystery and safe- 
guard of the place," said the astrologer, " nothing 
can be discerned until you have passed the spell- 
bound gateway, and been put in possession of 
the place." 

As they approached the gateway, the astrologer 
paused, and pointed out to the king the mystic 
hand and key carved upon the portal of the arch. 
•' These," said he, " are the talismans which guard 
the entrance to this paradise. Until yonder hand 
shall reach down and seize that key, neither mor- 
tal power nor magic artifice can prevail against 
the lord of this mountain." 

While Aben Habuz was gazing, with open 
mouth and silent wonder, at these mystic talis- 
mans, the palfrey of the princess proceeded, and 
bore her in at the portal, to the very centre of 
the barbican. 

" Behold," cried the astrologer, " my promi--ied 
reward ; the first animal with it 5 burden Avhich 
Bhould enter the magic gateway." 

Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a 
pleasantry of the ancient man ; but when he 
found him to be in earnest, his gray beard trem- 
:)led with in(h'«rnatiun. 



216 THE SPELL-BOUND GATEWAY. 

" Sou of Abu Ayub," said he, steruly, " what 
equivocation is this ? Thou knowest the mean- 
ing of my promise : the first beast of burden, 
with its load, that should enter this portal. Take 
the strongest mule in my stables, load it with the 
most precious things of my treasury, and it is 
thine : but dare not raise thy thoughts to her who 
IS the delight of my heart." 

'• AVhat need I of wealth ? " cried the astrologer, 
scornfully ; " have I not the book of knowledge 
of Solomon the Wise, and through it the command 
of the secret treasures of the earth ? The princess 
is mine by right ; thy royal word is pledged ; I 
claim her as my own." 

The princess looked down haughtily from her 
palfrey, and a light smile of scorn curled her 
rosy lip at this dispute between two gray-beards 
for the possession of youth and beauty. The 
wrath of the monarch got the better of his dis- 
cretion. '• Base son of the desert," cried he, 
" thou mayst be master of many arts, but know 
me for thy master, and presume not to juggle 
with thy king." 

'' My master ! my king ! " echoed the astrolo- 
ger, — " the monarch of a mole-hill tc claim 
sway over him who possesses the talismans of 
Solomon ! Farewell, Aben Habuz ; reign over 
thy petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of 
fools ; for me, I will laugh at thee in my philo- 
sophic retirement." 

So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, 
Bmote tiie earth with his staflf, and sank with the 
Gothic princess through the centre of the bar- 



THE SUBTERRANEAN BALL. 217 

bican. The earth closed over them, and no trace 
remained of the opening by which they had de- 
scended. 

Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a time witK 
astonishment. Recovering himself, he ordered i\ 
thousand workmen to dig, with pickaxe and spade, 
into th^ ground Avhere the astrologer had disap- 
peared. They digged and digged, but in vain , 
the flinty bosom of the hill resisted their imple- 
ments ; or if they did penetrate a little way, the 
earth tilled in again as fast as they threw it out. 
Aben Habuz sought the mouth of the cavern at the 
foot of the hill, leading to the subterranean palace 
of the astrologer ; but it was nowhere to be found. 
Where once had been an entrance, was now a 
solid surface of primeval rock. With the disap- 
pearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ceased the 
benefit of his talismans. The bronze horseman 
remained fixed, with his face turned toward the 
hill, and his spear pointed to the spot where the 
astrologer had descended, as if there still lurked 
the deadliest foe of Aben Habuz. 

Fi'om time to time the sound of music, and the 
tones of a female voice, could be faintly heard 
from the bosom of the hill : and a peasant one 
day brought word to the king, that in the preced- 
ing night he had found a fissure in the rock, by 
which he had crept in, until he looked down into 
ji subterranean hall, in which sat the astrologer, 
oi: a magnificent divan, slumbering and nodding 
to the silver lyre of the princess, which s(^med 
to hold a magic sway over his senses. 

Aben Habuz sought the fissure in the rock. 



218 THE SUBTERRANEAN HALL. 

but it was again closed. He renewed the at- 
tempt to unearth his rival, but all in vain. The 
spell of the hand and key was too potent to bo 
counteracted by human power. As to the sum- 
mit of tlie mountain, the site of the piomised 
palace and garden, it remained a naked waste ; 
either the boasted elysium was hidden from sight 
by enchantment, or was a mere fable of the as- 
ti'ologer. The world charitably supposed tlie 
hitter, and some used to call the place "■ The 
King's Folly " ; while others named it " The 
Fool's Paradise." 

To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the 
neighbors whom he had defied and taunted, 
and cut up at his leisiu-e while master of the 
talismanic horseman, finding him no longer pro- 
tected by magic spell, made inroads into his ter- 
ritories from all sides, and the remainder of the 
life of the most pacific of monarchs was a tissue 
of turmoils. 

At length Aben Habuz died, and was buried. 
Ages have suice rolled awny. The Alhambra 
has been built on the eventful mountain, and in 
some measure realizes the fabled delights of the 
garden of Irem. The spell-bound gateway still 
exists entire, protected no doubt by the mystic 
hand and key, and now forms the Gate of Justice, 
the grand entrance to the fortress. Under that 
gateway, it is said, the old astrologer remains in 
his subterranean hall, nodding on his divan, lulled 
by tRe silver lyre of the princess. 

The old invalid sentinels who mount guard a 
the gate hear the strains occasionally in the su 



MAGIC SLUMBERS. 219 

mer nights ; and, yielding to tlieir soporific power 
doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so drowsy an 
influence pervades the place, that even those who 
watch by day may generally be seen nodding on 
the stone benches of the barbican, or sleeping 
under the neighboring trees ; so that in fact it is 
the drowsiest military post in all Christendom. 
All this, say the ancient legends, will endure from 
age to age. The princess will remain captive to 
the astrologer ; and the astrologer, bound up in- 
magic slumber by the princess, until the last day, 
unless the mystic hand shall grasp the flited key, 
and dispel the whole charm of this enchanted 
mountain. 

NOTE TO THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 

Al Makkari, in his history of the Mahommedan Dynasties 
in Spain, cites from another Arabian -writer an account of a 
talismanic eihgy somewhat similar to the one in the foregoing 
legend. 

In Cadiz, says he, there formerly stood a square tower up- 
wards of one hundred cubits high, built of huge blocks of 
stone, fastened together with clamps of brass. On the top 
was the figure of a man, holding a statf in his right hand, his 
face turned to the Atlantic, and pointing Avith the forefinger 
of his left hand to the Straits of Gibraltar. It was said to 
have been set up in ancient times by the Gothic kings oi 
Andalus, as a beacon or guide to navigators. The Moslems 
of Darbary and Andalus considered it a talisman which 
exercised a spell over the seas. Under its guidance, swarms 
of piratical people of a nation called iMajus, appeared on the 
coast in large vessels with a square sail in the bow, and an- 
other in the stern. They came every six or seven years: 
captured everything they met w^ith on the sea; — guided !)y 
•.he statue, they passed through the Straits into the JNIcdi- 
terranean, landed on the coasts of Andalus, laid ever} thing 



220 



THE IDOL AT CADIZ. 



waste with fire and sword; and sometimes carried. their dep 
redations on the opposite coasts even as far as Syria. 

At length it came to pass in the time of the civil wars, t 
Moslem Admiral who had taken possession of Cadiz, hearin4 
that the statue on top of the tower was of pure gokl, had i 
lowered to the ground and bi'oken to pieces: when it provec 
to be of gilded brass. AVith the destruction of the idol, th< 
spell over the sea was at an end. From that time forward 
nothing more was seen of the piratical people of the ocean 
excepting that two of their barks were Avrecked on the coast, 
one at .Marsu-l-Majus (the port of the Majus), the other close 
•^.o the promontory of Al-Aghan. 

The maritime invaders above mentioned by Al-Makkari 
must have been the Northmen. 




YISIT01\.i TO THE ALHAMBRA. 




OR nearly three months had I enjoyed 
undisturbed my dream of sovereignty 
in the Alhambra, — a longer term of 
quiet than had b\;en the lot of many of my pred- 
ecessors. Dunn,^ this lapse of time the progress 
of the season i\a()i wrought the usual change. On 
my arrival I iiaU found everything in the fresh- 
ness of May ; the foliage of the trees was still 
tender and tran.-jparent ; the pomegranate had not 
yet shed its bruAiant crimson blossoms ; the or- 
chards of the Xenil and the Dai-ro were in full 
bloom ; the rockt. were hung with wild-flowers, 
and Granada seemed completely surrounded by a 
wilderness of ros^;s ; among which innumerable 
nightingales sang, not merely in the night, but all 
day long. 

Now the advance of summer had withered the 
rose and silenced the nightingale, and the distant 
country began to look parched and sunburnt ; 
though a perennial verdure reigned immediately 
round the city and in the deep narrow valleys at 
the foot of the snow-capped mountains. 

The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to 
the heat of the weather, among which the most 
peculiar is the almost subterranean apartment of 



222 THE BATHS. 

the baths. This still retains its ancient Oriental 
character, though stamped with the touching 
traces of decline. At the entrance, opening into 
a small court formerly adorned with flowers, is a 
liall, moderate in size, but light and graceful in 
architecture. It is overlooked by a small gallei'y 
supported by marble pillars and moresco arches. 
An alabaster fountain in the centre of the pave- 
ment still throws up a jet of water to cool the 
place. On each side are deep alcoves with raised 
platforms, where the bathers, after their ablutions, 
i"eclined on cushions, soothed to voluptuous repose 
by the fragrance of the perfumed air and the 
notes of soft music from the gallery. Beyond 
this hall are the interior chambers, still more re- 
tired ; the sanctum sanctorum of female privacy; 
for here the beauties of the Harem indulged in 
the luxury of the baths. A soft mysterious light 
reigns through the place, admitted through small 
apertures (lumbreras) in the vaulted ceiling. 
The traces of ancient elegance are still to be 
seen ; and the alabaster baths in Avhich the sid- 
tanas once reclined. The prevailing obscurity 
and silence have made these vaults a favorite re- 
sort of bats, who nestle during the day in the 
dark nooks and corners, and on being disturbed, 
flit mysteriously about the twilight chambers, 
heightening, in an indescribable degree, their air 
of desertion and decay. 

In this cool and elegant, though dilapidated 
retreat, which had the freshness and seclusion of 
a grotto, I passed the sultry hours of the day as 
summer advanced, emerging towards sunset ; and 



A RIVAL POT EX TATE. 223 

batliino-, or rather swimming, at iiiglit in the great 
reservoir of the main cOurt, In this way I was 
enahled in a measure to counteract the relaxino 
and enervating influence of tlie climate. 

My dream of absohite sovereignty, however 
came at length to an end. I was roused one 
morning by the report of fire-arms, which rever- 
berated among the towers as if the castle had 
been taken by surprise. On sallying forth, I 
foun:l an old cavalier with a number of domestics 
in possession of the Hall of Ambassadors. He 
was an ancient count who had come up fiom his 
pahice in Granada to pass a short time in the Al- 
liambra for the benefit of purer air ; and who, 
being a veteran and inveterate sportsmnn, was 
endeavoring to get an appetite for his breakfast 
by shooting at swallows from the balconies. It 
was a harmless amusement ; for though, by the 
alertness of his attendants in loading his pieces, 
he was enabled to keep up a brisk fire, I could 
not accuse him of the death of a single swallow. 
Nay, the birds themselves seemed to enjoy the 
sport, and to deride iiis want of skill, skimming 
in circles close to the balconies, and twittering as 
they darted by. 

■"J'iie arrival of this old gentleman changed es- 
sentially the aspect of affairs, but caused no jeal- 
ousy nor collision. We tacitly shared the em- 
pii-e between us, like the last kings of Granachi, 
excepting that we maintained a most anu'cahle 
uiliarice. He rei jned absolute over the court of 
tlie J^ions and its adjacent halls, Avhile 1 main- 
tainod peaceful })osseriBio!i of the regions of the 



224 A RIVAL POTENTATE. 

baths and the little garden of Lindaraxa. We 
took our meals together tinder the arcades of the 
court, where the fountains cooled the air, and 
bubbling rills ran along the channels of the mar- 
ble pavement. 

In the evenings a domestic circle would gather 
about the worthy old cavalier. The countess, his 
wife by a second marriage, would come up from 
the city accompanied by her step-daughter Car- 
men, an only child, a charming little being, still 
in her girlish years. Then there were always 
some of his official dependants, his chaplain, his 
lawyer, his secretary, his steward, and other 
officers and agents of his extensive possessions, 
who brought him up the news or gossip of the 
city, and formed his evening party of tresillo or 
ombre. Thus he held a kind of domestic court, 
where. each one paid him deference, and sought 
to contribute to his amusement, without, however 
any appearance of serviUty, or any sacrifice of 
self-respect. In fact, nothing of the kind was 
exacted by the demeanor of the Count ; for what- 
ever may be said of Spanish pride, it rarely chills 
or constrains the intercourse of social or domestic 
life. Among no })eople are the relations between 
kindred more unreserved and cordial, or between 
superior and dependant more free from haughti- 
ness on the one side, and obsequiousness on tlie- 
other. In these respects there still remains in 
Spanish life, especially in the provinces, much of 
the vaunted simplicity of the olden time. 

The most interesting member of this family 
group, in my eyes, was the daughter of the count, 



LA NINA. 225 

the lovely little Carmen. Slie was but about six- 
teen years of age, and appeared to be considered 
a mere child, though the idol of the family, going 
generally by the childlike but endearing appel- 
lation of la Nina. Her form had not yet attained 
full maturity and development, but possessed al- 
ready the exquisite symmetry and pliant gj-aoe 
so prevalent in this country. Her blue eyes, fair 
complexion, and light hair, were unusual in An- 
dalusia, and gave a mildness and gentleness to her 
demeanor in contrast to the usual lire of Spanish 
beauty, but in unison with tlie guileless and con- 
tiding innocence of her manners. She had at 
the same time the innate aptness and versatility 
of her facinating countrywomen. Whatever she 
undertook to do slie did well and apparently with- 
out effort. She sang, played the guitar and other 
instruments, and danced the picturesque dances 
of her country to admiration, but never seemed 
to seek admii-ation. Everything was spontane- 
ous, prompted by her own gay spirits and happy 
temper. 

The presence of this fascinating little being 
spread a new charm about the Alhambra, and 
seemed to be in unison with the place. While 
the count and countess, with the chaplain or sec- 
retary, were playing their game of tresillo under 
the vestibule of the court of Lions, she, attended 
by Dolores, who acted as her maid of honor, 
would sit by one of the fountains, and accompany- 
ing herself on the guitar, would sing some of 
those popular romances which abound in Spain. 

15 



226 



LA NJXA. 



or, -svhat was still more to my taste, some tradi- 
tioiial ballad about the Moors. 

Never shall I think of the Alhambra without 
remembering this lovely little being, sporting in 
happy and innocent girlhood in its marble halls, 
dancing to the sound of the Moorish castanets, oi 
mingling the silver warbling of her voice with 
the nmsic of its fountains. 





RELICS AND GENEALOGIES. 

MF I had been pleased and interested by 
the count and his family, as furnishing a 

^' picture of a Spanish domestic life, I was 
still more so when apprised of historical circum- 
stances which linked tliem with the heroic times 
of Granada. In foct, in this worthy old cavalier, 
so totally unwarlike, or whose deeds in arms ex 
tended, at mo^t, to a war on swallows and mart- 
lets, I disco%'ered a lineal descendant and actual 
representative of Gonsalvo of Cordova, " Tiie 
Grand Captain," who won some of his brightest 
laurels before the walls of Granada, and was one 
of the cavaliers commissioned by Ferdinand and 
Isabella to negotiate the terms of surrender ; nay, 
more, the count was entitled, did he choose it, 
to claim remote affinity with some of the ancient 
INIoorish princes, tlirough a scion of his house, 
Don Pedro Venegas, surnamed the Tornadizo ; 
and by the same token his daughter, the flisci- 
nating little Carmen, might claim to be rightful 
representative of the Princess Cetimerien or the 
beautiful Lindaraxa.* 

* Lest this should be deemed a mere stretch of fancy, the 
reader is referred to the following genealogy, derived by the 
listorian Alcantai»a, from an Arabian manuscript, on parch 



228 RELiaUES OF THE COX QUEST. 

Understanding from the count thut he had some 
curious relics of the Conquest, preserved in his 
family archives, I accompanied him early one 
morning down to his palace in Granada to ex- 
amine them. The most important of these relics 
was the sword of the Grand Captain ; a weapon 
destitute of all ostentatious ornament, as the 
weapons of great generals are apt to be, witli a 
plain hilt of ivory and a broad thin blade. It 
might furnish a comment on hereditary honors, 
to see the sword of the grand captain legitimately 
declined into such feeble Jiands. 

The other relics of the Conquest were a num- 
ber of espingardas or muskets of unwieldy size 
and ponderous weight, worthy to rank with those 
enormous two-edged swords preserved in old ar- 
mories, which look like relics from the djiys of the 
giant» 

Beside other hereditary honors, 1 found the 
old cr»unt was Alferez mayor, or grand standard- 
bearev, in which capacity he was entitled to bear 

ment in the archives of the Marquis of Corvera. It is a 
gpecitnen of the curious atfinities between Christians and iMos- 
lem?, produced by capture and intermarriages, during (he 
Moorish wars. From Abeu Hud, the Moorish king, the con- 
queror of the Ahnoliades, Avas descended in right line C'i-1 
Yahia Abraham Ahiagar, prince of Alnieria, who married a 
daughter of King Jierniejo. They had three children, coni- 
raonly called the Cetimerian Princes. 1st. JuseJ' btn Alha- 
viar^ Avho for a time usurped the throne of Granada. 2d. Tlie 
Princz Nasar, who married the celebrated Lindaraxa. 3d. 
'J'he Princess Ciiimci-itn, ^\ho married Don Pedro \'en(.gas 
captu'-ed by the Moors in his boyhood, a younger son of the 
lluus(. if Lnque^ of which houss the old count was the present 
bead- 



COSTUMES OF THE MOORS OF AN DAL US. 229 

the ancient standard of Ferdinand and Isabella, 
Dn certain high and solenui occasions, and to wave 
it over their tombs. I was shown also the ca- 
parisons of velvet, sumptuously embroidered with 
gold and silver, for six horses, with which he ap- 
peared in state when a new sovereign was to be 
proclaimed in Granada and Seville ; the count 
mounting one of the horses, and the other five 
being led by lackeys in rich liveries. 

I had hoped to find among the relics and an- 
tiquities of the count's palace some specimens of 
the armor and weapons of the Moors of Granada, 
such as I had heard were preserved as trophies 
by the descendants of the Conquerors ; but in 
this I was disappointed. I was the more curious 
in this particular, because an erroneous idea has 
been entertained by many, as to the costumes 
of the Moors of Spain ; supposing them to be of 
the usual Oriental type. On the contrary, we 
have it on the authority of their own writers, 
that they adopted in many respects the fashions 
of the Christians. The turban, especially, so 
identified in idea with the Moslem, was generally 
abandoned, except in the western provinces, 
where it continued in use among people of rank 
and wealth, and those holding places under gov- 
ermnent. A woollen cap, red or green, was com- 
monly worn as a substitute ; probably the same 
kind originating in Barbary, and known by the 
name of Tunis or Fez, which at the present day 
is worn throughout the East, though generally 
under the turban. The Jews were objiged to 
A^ear them of a yellow color. 



230 COSTUMES OF TFIE MOORS OF AND ALUS 

In Murcia, Valencia, and other eastern prov 
inces, men of the higliest rank might be seen ir 
public bareheaded. The Avarrior king, Aben Hud. 
never wore a turban, neither did his rival and 
competitor Al Hamar, the founder of the Alham- 
bra. A short cloak called Taylasan, similar to 
that seen in Spain in the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries, was worn by all ranks. It had a hood 
or cape which people of condition sometimes drew 
over the head ; but the lower class never, 

A Moslem cavalier in the thirteenth century 
as described by Ibnu Said, was equipped for war 
very much in the Christian style. Over a coju- 
plete suit of mail he wore a short scarlet tunic- 
His helmet was of polished steel ; a shield was 
slung at his back ; he wielded a huge spear with 
a broad point, sometimes a double point. His 
saddle was cumbrous, projecting very much in 
front and in rear, and he rode with a banner flut- 
tering behind him. 

In the time of Al Khattib of Granada, who 
wrote in the fourteenth century, the Moslems of 
Andalus had resumed the Oriental costumes, and 
were again clad and armed in Arabic fashion : 
with light helmet, thin but well-tempered cuirass, 
long slender lance, commonly of reed, Arabian 
saddle and leathern buckler, made of double folds 
of the skin of the antelope. A wonderful luxury 
prevailed at that time in the arms and equip- 
ments of the Granadian cavaliers. Their armor 
was inlaid with gold and silver. Their cimcters 
were of the keenest Damascus blades, with 
sheaths richly wrought and enamelled, and belts 



COSTUMES OF THE MOORS OF AND ALUS. 231 

of golden fili,2:ree studded with gems. Tlieir 
daggers of Fez had jewelled hilt.s, and their 
huiccs were set ofi' witli gay banderoles. Their 
horses were caparisoned in correspondent style, 
with velvet and embroidery. 

All this minute description, given by a con 
temporary, and an author of distinction, verifies 
those gcfllant pictures in the old Morisco Spanish 
ballads which have sometimes been deemed apoc- 
ryphal, and give a vivid idea of the brilliant ap- 
pearance of the chivalry of Granada, when mar- 
shalled forth in warlike array, or when celebrab- 
iiig the chivalrous fetes of the Vivarrambla. 




THE GENERALIFE. 




I'lGH above the Alhambra, on the breast 
^1 of the mountain, amidst embowered gar- 
dens and stately terraces, rise the lofty 
towers and white walls of the Generalife ; a 
fairy palace, full of storied recollections. Here 
is still to be seen the famous cypresses of enor- 
mous size Avhich flourished in the time of the 
Moors, and which tradition has connected with 
the fabulous story of Boabdil and his sultana. 

Here are preserved the portraits of many who 
figured in the I'omantic drama of the Conquest. 
Ferdinand and Isabella, Ponce de Leon, the gal- 
lant Marquis of Cadiz, and Garcilaso de la Vega, 
who slew in desperate fight Tarfe the Moor, a 
champion of Hei'culean strength. Here too hangs 
a portrait which has long passed for that of the 
unfortunate Boabdil, but which is said to be that 
of Aben Hud, the Moorish king from whom de 
scended the princes of Almeria. From one of 
these princes, who joined the standard of Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella towards the close of the Con- 
quest, and was christianized by the name of Don 
Pedro de Granada Venegas, was descended the 
present proprietor of the palace, the Marquis of 
Campotejar. The proprietor, however, dwells in 



THF. GENERALIFE. 233 

a foreign land, and the palace has no longer a 
princely inhabitant. 

Yet here is everything to delight a southern 
voluptuary : fruits, flowers, fragrance, green ar- 
bors and myrtle hedges, delicate air and gushing 
vv^aters. Plere I had an opportunity of witness- 
ing those scenes which painters are fond of de- 
picting about southern palaces and gardens. It 
was the saint's day of tiie count's daughter, and 
she had brought up several of her youthful com- 
panions from Granada, to sport away a long sum- 
mer's day among the breezy halls and bowers of 
the Moorish palaces. A visit to the Generalife 
was the morning's entertainment. Here some 
of the gay company dispersed itself in groups 
about the green walks, the bright fountains, the 
flights of Italian steps, the noble terraces and 
marble balustrades. -Others, among whom I was 
one, took their seats in an open gallery or colon- 
nade commanding a vast prospect ; with the Al- 
hambra, the city, an<l the Vega, fai* below, and the 
distant horizon of mountains — -a dreamy world, 
all glimmering to the eye in summer sunshine. 
While thus seated, the all-pervading tinkling of 
the guitar and click of the castanets came steal- 
ing up from the valley of the Darro, and half- 
way down the mountain we descried a festive 
party under the trees, enjoying themselves in true 
Andalusian style ; some lying on the grass, others 
dancing to the music. 

All these sights and sounds, together with the 
princely seclusion of the place, the sweet quiet 
which prevailed around, and the delicious serenity 



234 THE GENERALIFE. 

of th(3 weather, had a witching effect upon the 
mind, and drew from some of the company, 
versed in local story, several of the popular flin- 
cies and ti-aditions connected with this old Moor- 
ish palace ; they were " such stuff as dreams are 
made of," but out of them I have shaped the 
following legend, which I hope may have the 
good fortune to prove acceptable to the reader. 




LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL; 



THE PILGRIM OP LOVE. 




HERE was once .a Moorish king of GJra- 
nada, who had but one son, whom he 
named Ahmed, to which his courtiers 
added the surname of al Kamel, or the Perfect, 
from the indubitable signs of superexcellence which 
they perceived in him in his very infancy. The 
astrologers coimtenanced them in their foresight, 
predicting everything in his favor that could 
make a perfect prince and a prosperous sovereign. 
One cloud oidy rested upon his destiny, and even 
that was of a roseate hue : he would be of an 
amorous temperament, and run great perils from 
the tender passion. If, however, he could be kept 
from the allurements of love until of mature age, 
these dangers would be averted, and his life 
thereafter be one uninterrupted course of felicity. 
To prevent all danger of the kind, the king 
wisely determined to rear the prince in a seclu- 
sion where he should never see a female face, 
nor hear even the name of love. For this i)ur- 
pose he built a beautit'ul palace on the brow of 
the hill above the Alhambra, in the midst of de- 



236 AN ARABIAN SAGE. 

Hghtfiil gardens, but surrounded by lofty walls 
being, in fact, the same palace known at the pres- 
ent day by the name of the Generalife. In this 
palace the youthful prince was shut up, and in- 
trusted to the guardianship and instruction of 
Eben Bonabben, one of the wisest and dryest of 
Arabian sages, who had passed the greatest part 
of his life in. Egypt, studying hieroglyphics, and 
making researches among the tombs and pyra- 
mids, and who saw more charms in an Egyptian 
mummy than in the most tempting of living 
beauties. The sage was ordered to instruct the 
prince in all kinds of knowledge but one, — he 
was to be kept utterly ignorant of love. " Use 
every precaution for the purpose you may think 
proper," said the king, " but remember, O Eben 
Bonabben, if my son learns aught of that forbid- 
den knowledge while under your care, your head 
shall answer for it." A withered smile came 
over the dry visage of the Avise Bonabben at the 
menace. " Let your majesty's heart be as easy 
about your son, as mine is about my head : am I 
a man likely to give lessons in the idle passion ? " 
Under the vigilant care of the philosopher, 
the prince grew up in the seclusion of the palace 
and its gardens. He had black slaves to attend 
upon him — hideous mutes who knew nothing of 
love, or if they did, had not words to communi- 
cate it. His mental endowments were the pe- 
culiar care of Eben Bonabben, who sought to 
initiate him into the abstruse lore of Egypt ; but 
in this the prince made little progress, and it 
was soon evident that he had no turn for 
philosophy. 



THE DISCOVERY OF A HEART. 237 

He was, however, amazingly ductile for a 
youthful prince, ready to follow any advice, and 
always guided by the last counsellor. He sup- 
pressed his yawns, and listened patiently to the 
long and learned discourses of Eben Bonabben, 
from which he imbibed a smattering of various 
kinds of knowledge, and thus happily attained 
his twentieth year, a miracle of princely wisdom 
— but totally ignorant of love. 

About this time, however, a change came over 
the conduct of the prince. He completely aban- 
doned his studies, and took to strolling about the 
gardens, and musing by the side of the fountains. 
He had been taught a little music among his va- 
rious accomplishments ; it now engrossed a great 
part of his time, and a turn for poetry became ap- 
parent. The sage Eben Bonabben took the alarm, 
and endeavored to work these idle humors out 
of him by a severe course of algebra ; but the 
prince turned from it with distaste. "I cannot 
endure algebra," said he ; " it is an abomination 
to me. I want something that speaks more to 
the heart." 

The sage Eben Bonabben shook his dry head 
at the words. " Here is an end to philosophy," 
thought he. " The prince has discovered he has 
a heart ! " He now kept anxious watch upon his 
pupil, and saw that the latent tenderness of his 
nature was in activity, and only wanted an object. 
He wandered about the gardens of the Generalife 
iii an intoxication of feelings of which he knew 
uot the cause. Sometimes he would sit plunged 
ui a delicious reverie ; then he would seize his 



2o8 THE L AN (J U AGE OF BIRDS. 

lute and draw from it the most toiicliiiig notes, 
and then throw it aside, and break forth into 
sighs and cjacuhitions. 

By degrees this loving disposition began te 
extend to inanimate objects ; he had his favorite 
flowers, which he cherished \yith tender assiduity ; 
then he became attached to various trees, and 
there was onp; in particular, of a graceful form 
and drooping f<>liage, on which he lavished his 
amorous devotion, carving his name on its bark, 
hanging garlartds on its branches, and singing 
couplets in its praise, to the accompaniment of 
his lute. 

Eben BoYiabben was alarmed at this excited 
state of bis pupiL He saw him on the very 
brink of forbidden knowledge — the least hint 
might reveal to him the fatal secret. Trembling 
for the snfety of the prince and the security of 
his own liead, he hastened to draw him from the 
seductions of the garden, and shut him up in the 
highest tower of the Generalife. It contained 
beautiful apartments, and commanded an almost 
boundless prospect, but was elevated far above 
that atmosphere of sweets and those witching 
bowers so dauirerous to the feelinjrs of the too 
susceptible Ahmed. 

What was to be done, however, to reconcile 
iu'm to this restraint and to beguile the tedious 
hours ? He had exhausted almost all kinds of 
agreeable knowledge ; and algebra was not to 
be mentioned. Fortunately Eben Bonabben had 
been instructed, when in Egypt, in the language 
of birds, by a Jewish Rabbin, who had received 



THE BIRDS OF T!!K TOWER. 239 

it in lineal transmission from Solomon the Wise, 
who had been taught it by the queen of Sheba. 
At the very mention of sncli a study, the eyes of 
the prince sparkled with animalion, and lie applied 
himself to it with such avidity, tliat he soon be- 
came as great an adept as his master. 

The tower of tlie General! fe was no longer a 
r-olitnde ; he had companions at hand with whom 
he could converse. The first acquaintance he 
formed was with a hawk, who built his nest in a 
crevice of the lofty battlements, whence he soared 
far and wide in quest of prey. The prince, how- 
ever, found little to like or esteem in him. He 
was a mere pirate of the air, swaggering and 
boiistful, whose talk was all about rapine and car- 
nage, and desperate exploits. 

His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty 
wise-looking bird, with a hu2;e head and starinir 
eyes, who sat blinking and goggling all day in a 
hole in the wall, but roamed forth at night. He 
had great pretensions to wisdom, talked some- 
thing of astrology and the moon, and hinted at 
the dark sciejices ; he was grievously given to 
metaphysics, and the prince found his prosings 
even more ponderous than those of the sage Eben 
Bonabben. 

Then there was a bat, that hung all day by his 
heels in the dark corner of a vault, but sallied 
out in slipshod style at twilight. He, however, 
had but twilight ideas on all subjects, derided 
things of which he had taken but an imperfect 
view, and seemed to take delight in nothing. 

Besides these there was a swallow, with whom 



240 THE BIRDS OF THE TOWER. 

the prince was at first much taken. He was a 
smart talker, but restless, bustling, and forever 
on the wing ; seldom remaining long enough for 
any continued conversation. He turned out in 
the end to be a mere smatterer, who did but skim 
over the surface of things, pretending to know 
everything, but knowing nothing thoroughly. 

These were the only feathered associates with 
whom the prince had any opportunity of exer- 
cising his newly acquired language ; the tower 
was too high for any other birds to frequent it. 
He soon grew weary of his new acquaintances, 
whose conversation spoke so little to the head 
and nothing to the heart, and gradually relapsed 
into his loneliness. A winter passed away, spring 
opened with all its bloom and verdure and breath- 
ing sweetness, and the happy time arrived for 
birds to pair and build tlieir nests. Suddenly, 
as it were, a universal burst of song and melody 
broke forth from the groves and gardens of the 
Generalife, and reached the prince in the solitude 
of his tower. Fi'om esiivj side he heard the 
same universal theme — love — love — love — 
chanted forth, and responded to it in every va- 
riety of note and tone. The prince listened in 
silence and pei'plexity. " What can be this love," 
tliought he, *" of which tlie world seems so full, 
and of which I know nothing?" He applied 
for information to his friend the hawk. Tlie 
ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn : " You 
must apply," said he, " to the vulgar peaceable 
birds of earth, wlio are made for the prey of lis 
princes of the air. My tnide is war, and fighting 



INQUIRY AFTER LOVE. 241 

my delight. 1 am a warrior, and know nothing 
of tiii.s ihiii^L;' called love." 

The prince tiii'ned iitjiu him with disgust, and 
yought the owl in his retreat. " This is a bird," 
said he, " of peacefid habits, and may be able to 
solve my question." So he asked the owl to tell 
him what was this love about which all the birds 
iu the groves below were singing. 

Upon this the owl put on a look of offended 
dignity. "My nights,* said he, "are taken* up in 
study and research, and my days in ruminating 
in my cell upon all that I have learnt. As to 
these singing birds of whom you talk, I never 
listen to them — 1 despise them and their themes. 
Allah be praised, I cannot sing ; 1 am a philoso- 
pher, and know nothing of this thing called love." 

The prince now repaired to the vault, where 
his friend the bat was hanging by the heels, and 
propounded the same question. The bat wrinkled 
up his nose into a most snappish expression. 
*' Why do you disturb me in my morning's nap 
with such an idle question ? " said he, peevishly. 
" 1 only fly by twilight, when all birds are asleep, 
and never trouble myself with their concerns.. 1 
am neither bird nor beast, and I thank heaven 
tor it. I have found out the villany of the whole 
of them, and hate them one and all. In a word, 
I am a misanthrope — and know nothing of this 
thing called love." 

As a last resort, the prince now sought the 

swallow, and stopped him just as he was circling 

about the sununit of the tower. The swallow, 

as usual, was in a prodigious hurry, and had 

16 



242 INQUIRY AFTER LOVE. 

Bcarce time to make a reply. " Upon my word,' 
said he, " I liave so much public business to at 
tend to, and so many pursuits to follow, that ] 
have had no time to think on the subject. I 
have every day a thousand visits to pay ; a thou- 
sand affairs of importance to examine into, ihn; 
leave me not a moment of leisure for these littl*? 
sing-song matters. In a word, I am a citizen of 
the world — I know nothing of this thing called 
love."' So saying, the swallow dived into the 
valley, and was out of sight in a moment. 

The prince remained disappointed and per- 
plexed, but with his curiosity still more piqued 
by ^he difficulty of gratifying it. While in this 
mood, his ancient guardian entered the tower. 
The prince advanced eagerly to meet him. " 
Eben Bonabben," cried he, " thou hast revealed 
to me much of the wisdom of the earth ; but 
there is one thin": of which 1 remain in utter \<i- 
norance, and would fain be inibrmed." 

" My prince has but to make the inquiry, and 
everything within the limited range of his ser- 
vant's intellect is at his command," 

".Tell me then, O most profound of sages, 
what is the nature of this thing called love ? " 

Eben Bonabben was struck as with a thunder- 
bolt. He trembled and turned pale, and felt as 
if his head sat but loosely on his shoulders. 

" What could suggest such a question to my 
prince, — where could he have learnt so idle a 
word ? " 

The prince led him to the window of the tower 
* Listen, Eben Bonabben," said he. The sage 



LOVE DEFIXED. 243 

listened. The nightingale sat in a thicket belo^v 
the tower, singing to his paramour the rose ; from 
every blossomed spray and tufted grov^e rose a 
strain of melody ; and love — love — love — was 
still the unvarying strain. 

" Allah Akbar ! God is great ! " exclaimed the 
wise Bonabben. " Who shall pretend to keep 
this secret from the heart of man, Avhen even the 
birds of the air conspire to betray it ? " 

Then turning to Ahmed — " O my prince," 
cried he, " shut tliine ears to these seductive 
strains. Close thy mind against this dangerous 
knowledge. Know that this love is the cause of 
half the ills of wretched mortality. It is this 
which produces bitterness and strife between 
bretliren and friends ; which causes treacherous 
murder and desolating war. Cai-e and sorrow, 
weary days and sleepless nights, are its attendants. 
It withers the bloom and blights the joy of youth, 
and brings on the ills and griefs of premature 
old age. Allah preserve thee, my prince, in total 
ignorance of this thing called love ! " 

The sage Eben Bonabben hastily retired, leav- 
ing the prince plunged in still deeper perplexity. 
It was in vain he attempted to dismiss the sub- 
ject from his mind ; it still continued uppermost 
in his thoughts, and teased and exhausted hira 
with vain conjectures. Surely, said he to himself, 
as he listened to the tuneful strains of the birds, 
there is no sorrow in those notes ; every thiug 
seems tenderness and joy. If love be a cause of 
Buch wretchedness and strife, why are not these 
birds drooping in solitude, or tearing each other 



244 TFIE FAITHFUL DOVE. 

in pieces, instead of flattering cheerfully about 
the groves, or sporting with each other arar>ng 
flowers ? 

He lay one morning on his couch, meditating 
on this inexplicable matter. The window of his 
chamber was open to admit the soft mornini^j 
breeze, which came laden with the perfume of 
orange-blossoms from the valley of the Darro. 
The voice of the nightingale was faintly heard, 
still chanting tlie wonted theme. As the prince 
was listening and sighing, there was a sudden 
rushing noise in the air ; a beautiful dove, pur- 
sued by a hawk, darted in at the window, nnd 
fell panting on the floor, while the purs«'er, 
balked of his prey, soared off to the mountaiu?'. 

The prince took up the gasping bird, smooth'^d 
its feathei'S, and nestled it in his bosom. Wb'^a 
he had soothed it by his caresses, he put it in a 
o;olden cage, and oflered it, with his own hands, 
tlie whitest and finest of wheat and the purest of 
water. The bird, however, refused food, and sat 
drooping and pining, and uttering piteous moans. 

" What aileth thee ? " said Ahmed. " Hast 
thou not everything thy heart can wish ? " 

" Alas, no ! " replied the dove ; " am I not 
separated from the partner of my heart, and that 
too in the happy spring-time, the very season of 
love ! " 

" Of love ! " echoed Ahmed. " I pray thea 
my pretty bird, canst thou then tell me wliat is 
love ? " 

" Too well can I, my prince. It is the tor- 
ment of one, the felicity of two, the strife and 



FIEST LESS OX OF LOVE. 245 

enmity of three. It is a charm which draws 
two beings together, and unites them by delicious 
sympathies, making it happiness to be with each 
other, but misery to be apart. Is there no being 
to whom you are drawn by these ties of tender 
aflfection ? " 

" I like my old teacher Eben Bonabben better 
than any other being ; but he is often tedious, 
and I occasionally feel myself happier without 
his society." 

•" That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak 
of love, the great mystery and principle of life : 
the intoxicating revel of youth ; the sober delight 
of age. Look forth, my prince, and behold how 
at this blest season all nature is full of love. 
Every created being has its mate ; the most in- 
significant bird sings to its paramour ; the very 
beetle wooes its lady-beetle in the dust, and yon 
butterflies which you see fluttering high above 
the tower and toying in the air, are happy in each 
other's loves. Alas, my prince ! hast thou spent 
so many of the precious days of youth without 
knowing anything of love ? Is there no gentle 
being of another sex — no beautiful princess nor 
lovely damsel who has ensnared your heart, and 
filled your bosom with a soft tumult of pleasing 
pains and tender wishes ? " 

" I begin to understand," said the prince, sigh- 
ing ; "such a tumult I have more than once ex- 
perienced, without knowing the cause ; and where 
should I seek for ai object such as you describe, 
n this dismal solitude ? " 

A little further conversation ensued, and the 
first amatory lesson of the prince was complete. 



246 THE SAGE IN PERIL. 

" Alas ! " said he, " if love be indeed such a 
delight, and its interruption such a misery, Allah 
forbid that I should mar the joy of any of its 
votaries," He opened the cage, took out the dove, 
and having fondly kissed it, carried it to the win- 
dow. " Go, happy bird," said he, " rejoice with 
the partner of thy heart in the days of youth and 
spring-time. Why should I make thee a fellow- 
prisoner in this dreary tower, wdiere love can 
never enter ? " 

The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave 
one vault into tlie air, and then swooped down- 
ward on whistling wings to the blooming bowers 
of the Darro. 

The prince followed him with his eyes, and 
then gave way to bitter repining. The singing 
of the birds, which once delighted him, now added 
to his bitterness. Love ! love ! love ! Alas, 
poor youth ! he now understood the strain. 

His eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the 
sage Bonabben. " Why hast thou kept me in this 
abject ignorance ? " cried he. " Why has tlie 
gi'eat mystery and principle of life been withheld 
from me, in which I find the meanest insect is so 
learned ? Behold all nature is in a revel of de- 
light. Every created being rejoices with its male. 
This — this is the love about which I have sought 
mstruction. Why am I alone debarred its en- 
joyment ? Why has so much of my youth been 
wasted without a knowledge of its raptures ? " 

The sage Bonabben saw that all further reserve 
was useless ; for the prince had acquired the dan- 
gerous and forbidden knowledge. He revealed 



THE RECLUSE BEAUTY. 247 

to him, therefore, the predictions of the astrologers 
and the precautions that had been taken in his 
education to avert the tlireatened evils. " And 
aow, my prince," added he, " my life is in your 
hands. Let the king your father discover that 
you have learned the passion of love while under 
my guardianship, and my head must answer for 
it." 

The prince was as reasonable as most young 
men of his age, and easily listened to the remon- 
strances of his tutor, since nothing pleaded against 
them. Besides, he really was attached to Eben 
Bonabben, and being as yet but theoretically ac- 
q-uainted with the passion of love, he consented 
to confine the knowledge of it to his own bosom, 
ratlier than endanger the head of the philosopher. 

His discretion was doomed, however, to be put 
to still further proofs. A few mornings after- 
wards, as he was ruminating on the battlements 
of the tower, the dove which had been released 
by him came hovering in the air, and alighted 
fearlessly upon his shoulder. 

The prince fondled it to his heart. " Happy 
bird," said he, '' who can fly, as it were, with the 
wings of the morning to the uttermost parts of the 
earth. Where hast thou be<3n since we parted ? '* 

" In a far country, my prince, whence I bring 
yixx tidings in reward lor my liberty. In the 
wild compass of my flight, which extends over 
plain and mountain, as I was soaring in the air, 1 
beheld below me a delightful garden with all 
Kinds of fruits and flowers. It was in a green 
oaeadow, on the banks of a wandering stream : 



248 A LOVE-MISSIVE. 

and in the centre of the garden was a statelv 
palace. I aliglited In one of the bowers to repose 
after my weary flight. On the green bank below 
me was a yoiitliful princess, in the very sweetness 
and bloom of her years. She was surrounded 
by female attendants, young like herself," who 
decked her with garlands and coronets of flowers : 
but no flower of field or garden could compare 
with her for loveliness. Here, however, she 
bloomed in secret, for the garden was surrounded 
by high walls, and no mortal man was permitted 
to enter. When 1 beheld this beauteous maid, 
thus young and innocent and unspotted by the 
world, 1 thought, here is the being formed by 
heaven to inspire my prince with love." 

The description was a spark of fire to the com- 
bustible heart of Ahmed ; all the latent amorous- 
ness of his temperament had at once found an 
object, and he conceived an immejusurable passion 
for the princess. He wrote a letter, couched in 
the most impassioned language, breathing his fer- 
vent devotion, but bewailing the unhappy thral- 
dom of his person, which prevented him from 
seeking her out and throwing himself at her feet. 
He added couplets of the most tender and moving 
eloquence, for he was a poet by nature, and in- 
spired by love. He addressed his letter — " To 
the Unknown Beauty, from the captive Prince 
Ahmed ; " then perfuming it with musk and roses, 
he gave it to the dove. 

" Away, trustiest of messengers ! " said he. 
■' Fly over mountain, and valley, and river, and 
plain ; rest not in bower, nor set foot on earth, 



THE EXAMELLED PICTURE. 249 

until thou hast given this letter to the mistress of 
my heart." 

The dove soared high in air, and taking his 
course darted away in one undeviating direction. 
The prince Ibllowed him with his eye until lie 
was a mere speck on a cloud, and gradually dis* 
appeared behind a mountain. 

Day afier day he watched for the return of 
the messenger of love, but he watched iu vain. 
lie began to accuse him of forgetfidness, when 
towards sunset one evening the faithful bird flut- 
tered into his apartment, and falling at his feet 
expired. The arrow of some wanton archer had 
pierced his breast, yet he had struggled with the 
lingerings of life to execute his mission. As the 
prince bent with grief over this gentle martyr to 
iidelity, he beheld a chain of pearls round his 
neck, attached to which, beneath his vving, was a 
small enamelled picture. It represented a lovely 
princess in the very liower of her years. It was 
doubtless the unknown beauty of the garden ; 
but who and where was she ? — how had she re- 
ceived his letter ? and was this picture sent as a 
token of her approval of his passion ? Unfor- 
tunately the death of the faithful dove left every- 
tliing in mystery and doubt. 

The prince gazed on the picture till his eyes 
swam with tears. He pressed it to his lips and 
to his heart ; he sat lor h(HU'S contemplating it 
almost in an agony of tenderness. " Beautiful 
unage ! " said he, " alas, thou art but an image ! 
Yet thy dewy eyes beam tenderly upon me ; 
those rosy lips look as though they would speak 



250 AX OWL OF QUALITY. 

encouragement : vain fancies ! Have they not 
looked the same on some more happy rival ? 
But where in this wide world shall I hope to 
find the original? Who knows what mountains, 
what realms may separate us ; what adverse 
chances may intervene ? Perhaps now, even now, 
lovers may be crowding around her, while I sit 
here a prisoner m a tower, wasting my time in 
adoration of a painted shadow." 

The resolution of Prince Ahmed was taken. 
" I will fly from this palace," said he, " which has 
become an odious prison ; and, a pilgrim of love, 
will seek this unknown princess throughout the 
world." To escape from the tower in the day, 
when every one was awake, might be a difficult 
matter ; but at night the palace was slightly 
guarded ; for no one apprehended any attempt of 
the kind from the prince, who had always been so 
passive in his Ciiptivity. Plow was he to guide 
liimself, however, in his darkling flight, being 
ignorant of the country ? He bethought him of 
the owl, who was accustomed to roam at night, 
and must know every by-lane and secret pass. 
Seekhig him in his hermitage, he questioned him 
touching his knowledge of the land. Upon this 
the owl put on a mighty self-important look. 
" You must know, prince," said he, " that we 
owls are of a very ancient and extensive family, 
1 hough rather fellen to decay, and possess ruinous 
castles and palaces in all parts of Spain. There 
i< scarcely a tower of the mountains, or a for- 
tiess of the plains, or an old citadel of a city, but 
has some brother, or uncle, or cousin, quartered 



THE OWL A rUILUSOPHER. 25] 

in it ; and in going tlie rounds to visit this my 
numerous kindred, I have pried iuto every nook 
and corner, and made myself acquainted wilh 
everj secret of the huid." 

The prince was oveijoyed to find the owl so 
deeply versed in topography, and now informed 
liini, in confidence, of his tender passion and his 
intended elopement, urging him to be his compan- 
ion and counsellor. 

" Go to ! " said the owl, with a look of dis- 
pleasui'e ; ''am I a bird to engage in a love- 
affair? — I, whose whole time is devoted to medi- 
tation and the moon ? " 

'• Be not offended, most solemn owl," replied 
the prince ; " abstract thyself for a time from 
meditation and the moon, and aid me in my flight, 
and thou shalt have whatever heart can wisli." 

" r have that already," said the owl : '■ a few 
mice are sufficient for my frugal table, and this 
hole in the wall is spacious enough for my 
studies ; and what more does a philosopher like 
myself desire ? " 

" Betiiink thee, most wise ovvd, that while mop- 
hig in thy cell and gazing at the moon, all tliy 
talents are lost to the world. I sliall one day 
be a sovereign prince, and may advance thee to 
some post of honor and dignity." 

The owl, thougii a philosopher and above the 
ordinary wants of life, was not above ambition ; 
€0 he was finally prevMiled on to elo[)e witli tlie 
prince, and be his guide and mentcn- in lii.s pil- 
grimage. 

The plans ol" a lover ai'e promptly executed. 



252 THE CABALISTIC RAVEN. 

The prince collected all bis jewels, and concealed 
them about bis person as travelling funds. Thai 
very night he lowered himself by his scarf from 
a balcony of the tow^er, clambered over the outer 
walls of the Generalife, and, guided by the owl, 
made good his escape before morning to tho 
mountains. 

He now held a council wdth his mentor as tc 
his future course. 

" Might I advise," said the owd, " I would rec- 
ommend you to repair to Seville. You must 
know that many years since I was on a visit to 
an uncle, an owl of great dignity and power, who 
lived in a ruined wing of the Alcazar of that 
place. In my boverings at night over the city I 
frequently remarked a ligbt burning in a lonely 
tower. At length I alighted on the battlements, 
and found it to proceed from the lamp of an 
Ai'abian magician : he was surrounded by his 
magic books, and on his shoulder was perched 
his familiar, an ancient raven who had come with 
him from Egypt. I am acquainted wdth that 
raven, and owe to him a great part of the knowl- 
edge I possess. The magician is since dead, but 
the raven still inhabits the tower, for these birds 
are of wonderful long life. I w^ould advise you, 
O prince, to seek that raven, for he is a sooth- 
sayer and a conjurer, and deals in the black art, 
for Avhich all ravens, and especially those of Egypt, 
are renowned." 

The prince was struck with the wisdom of 
this advice, and accordingly bent his course to- 
wards Seville. He travelled only in the night 



THE CA BA LIST I C R A \ 'I'-N- 2 b 

to accommodate his companion, and lay by during 
the day in some dark cavern or mouldering 
watch-tower, for the owl knew every hiding-hole 
of the kind, and had a most antiquarian taste for 
ruins. 

At length one morning at daybreak they 
reached the city of Seville, where the owl, who 
hated the glare and bustle of crowded streets, 
halted without the gate, and took up his quar- 
ters in a hollow tree. 

The prince entered the gate, and readily found 
the magic tower, which rose above the houses of 
the city, as a palm-tree rises above the shrubs of 
the desert ; it was in fact the same tower stand- 
mg at the present day, and known as the Giralda, 
the famous Moorish tower of Seville. 

The prince ascended by a great winding stair- 
case to the summit of the tower, where he found 
the cabalistic raven, — an old, mysterious, gray- 
headed bird, ragged in feather, with a film over 
one eye that gave him the glare of a spectre. 
He was perched on one leg, with his head turned 
on one side, poring with his remaining eye on a 
diagram described on the pavement. 

The prince approached him with the awe and 
reverence naturally inspired by his venerable ap- 
pearance and supernatural wisdom. " Pardon 
me, most ancient and darkly wise raven," ex- 
claimed he, " if for a moment I interrupt those 
studies which are the wonder of the world. You 
behold before you a votary of love, who would 
fain seek your counsel how to obtain the object 
of his passion." 



254 THE CABALTSTIC RAVEN. 

" In other words," said the raven, with a sig 
nificant look, " you seek to try my skill iu pal- 
misty. Come, show me your hand, and let me 
decipher the mysterious lines of fortune." 

" Excuse me," said the prince, " I come not to 
pry into the decrees of fate, which are hidden by 
Allah from the eyes of mortals ; I am a pilgrim 
of love, and seek but to find a clue to the object 
of my pilgrimage." 

" And can you be at any loss for an object in 
amorous Andalusia ? " said the old raven, leering 
upon him with his single eye ; " above all, can 
you be at a loss in wanton Seville, where black- 
eyed damsels dance the zambra under every 
orano;e o-rove ? " 

The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked 
at hearing an old bird with one foot in the grave 
talk thus loosely. " Believe me," said he, gravely, 
" I am on none such light and vagrant errand as 
thou dost insinuate. The black-eyed damsels of 
Andalusia who dance among the orange groves 
of the Guadalquivir are as naught to me. I seek 
one unknown but immaculate beauty, the original 
of this picture ; and I beseech thee, most potent 
raven, if it be within the scope of thy knowledge 
or the reach of thy art, inform me where she 
may be found." 

The gra,y-headed raven was rebuked by the 
gravity of the prince. 

" What know I," replied he, dryly, " of youth 
and beauty ? my visits are to the old and with- 
ered, not the fresh and fair : the harbinger of 
fate am I ; Avho croak bodings of death from the 



THE CABALISTIC RAVEN. 255 

chimney-top, and flap my wiiifr^ at the sick man a 
window. Yon mnst seek elsewliere for tidings of 
your unknown beauty." 

" And where can I seek if not among the 
eons of wisdom, versed in the book of destiny? 
Know that I am a royal prince, fated by the 
stars, and sent on a mysterions enterprise on 
which may hang the destiny of empires." 

When the raven heard that it was a matter of 
vast moment, in which the stars took interest, he 
changed his tone and manner, and listened with 
profound attention to the story of the prince. 
AVhen it was concluded, he replied, " Touching 
this princess, I can give thee no information of 
myself, tor my flight is not among gardens, or 
around ladies' bowers ; but hie thee to Cordova, 
seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman, 
which stands in the court of the principal mosque : 
at tlie foot of it thou wilt lind a great traveller 
who has visited all countries and courts, and been 
a favorite Avitii queens and princesses. He will 
give thee tidings of the object of they search." 

" Many thanks for this precious information," 
said the prince. " Farewell, most venerable con- 
jurer." 

" Farewell, pilgrim of love," said the raven, 
dryly, and again fell to pondering on the diagram. 

The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought 
liis fellow-traveller the owl, who v/as still dozing 
ui the hollow tree, and set off for Cordova. 

He approached it along hanging gardens, and 
orange and citron groves, overlooking the fair 
valley of the Guadalquivir. When arrived at 



256 THE TRAVELLED PARROT. 

its gates the owl flew np to a dark hole in the 
wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of the 
palm-tree planted in days of yore by the great 
Abderahman. It stood in the midst of the great 
court of the mosque, towering from amidst orange 
and cypress trees. Dervises and Faquirs were 
seated in groups under the cloisters of the court, 
and many of the faithful were pertbrming their 
ablutions at the fountains before entering the 
mosque. * 

At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd lis- 
tening to the words of one who appeared to be 
talking with great volubility. *' This," said the 
prin(;e to himself, " must be the great traveller 
who is to give me tidings of the unknown prin- 
cess." He mingled in the crowd, but was as- 
tonished to perceive that they were all listening 
to a parrot, Avho with his bright-green coat, prag- 
matical eye, and consequential top-knot, had the 
air of a bird on excellent terms with himself. 

" How is this," said the prince to one of the 
by-standers, " that so many grave persons can 
be delighted with the garrulity of a chattering 
bird ? " 

" You know not Avhom you speak of," said the 
other ; " this parrot is a descendant of the fa- 
mous parrot of Persia, renowned for his story -tell- 
ing talent. He has all the learning of the East 
at the tip of his tongue, and can quote poetry 
5S fast as he can talk. He has visited various 
foreign courts, where he has been considered an 
oracle of erudition. He has been a universal 
favorite also with the fair sex, who have a vast 



THE TRAVELLED PARROT. 257 

admiration for erudite parrots that can quote 
poetry." 

" Enough," said tlie prince, " I will have some 
privare talk with this distinguished traveller." 

He songlit a private interview, and expounded 
the nature of his errand. He had scarcely men- 
tioned it when the parrot burst into a fit of dry 
rickety laughter, that absolutely brought tears 
into his eyes. " Excuse my merriment," said he, 
' but the mere mention of love always sets me 
laughing." 

The prince was shocked at this ill-timed mirth. 
" Is not love," said he, " the great mystery of 
nature, the secret principle of life, the universal 
bond t)f sympathy ? " 

" A fig's end ! " cried the parrot, interrupting 
him ; '' prithee where hast thou learned this sen- 
timental jargon ? trust me, love is quite out of 
vogue ; one never hears of it in the company of 
wits and people of refinement." 

The prince sighed as he recalled the different 
language of his friend the dove. But- this parrot, 
tliought he, has lived about the court, he affects 
the wit and the fine gentleman, he knows nothing 
of the thing called love. Unwilling to provoke 
any more ridicule of the sentiment which filled hia 
heart, he now directed his inquiries to the imme- 
diate purport of his visit. 

" Tell me," said he, " most accomplished parrot, 
thou w4io hast everywhere been admitted to the 
most secret bowers of beauty, hast thou in the 
course of thy travels met with the original of this 
portrait ? " 

17 



2/)8 THE TRAVELLED PAR HOT. 

7'lie parrot ^ook the picture in his claw 
turned his head Ironi Hide to side, and examined it 
curiousl}' with either eye. " Upon my honor,'' 
said he, ''a veiy pretty face, very pretty; but 
Ihen or^e sees so many pretty women in one'e 
1 ravels that one can hardly — but hold — blesj 
me ! now I look at it aiiain — sure enou<ih 
this is the Piincess Aldegonda : how could I 
forget one that is so prodigious a favorite with 
me ! " 

" The Princess Aldegonda ! " echoed the pi'ince ; 
*' and where is she to be found ? " 

" Softly, softly," said the parrot, " easier to be 
found than gained. She is the only daugliter of 
the Christian king who reigns at Toledo, and is 
shut up from the world until her seventeenth 
birthday, on account of some prediction of those 
meddlesome iellows the astrologers. You '11 not 
get a sight of her ; no mortal man can see her. 
I was admitted to her presence to entertain her, 
and I assin-e yoii, on tlie word of a parrot who 
has seen the world. I have conversed with nmch 
sillier princesses in my time." 

" A word in conlidence, my dear parrot," said 
the prince. " I am heir to a kingdom, and shall 
one day sit upon a throne. I see that you are a 
bird of parts, and understand the world. riel[) 
me to gain possession of this princess, and I will 
advance you to some distinguished place about 
court." 

" With all my heart," said the parrot ; " bul 
let it be a sinecure if possible, for we wits have 
a great dislike to labor." 



THE TRAVELLED PARPOT. ?c9 

Arrangements were promptly made : the prinea 
sallied Ibrtli from Cordova throngh the sam» 
gate by which he had entered ; called the owJ 
down from the hole in the wall, nitroduced hiip 
to his new travelling companion as a brother sa- 
vant, and away they set off on their journey. 

They travelled much more slowly than accorded 
with the impatience of the prince ; but the parrot 
was accustomed to high life, and did not like to 
be disturbed early in the morning. The owl. ou 
the other hand, was for sleeping at mid-day, and 
lost a great deal of time by his long siestas. His 
antiquarian taste also was in the way ; for he in- 
sisted on pausing and inspecting every, ruin, and 
had long legendary tales to tell about every old 
tower and castle in the country. The prince had 
supposed that he and the parrot, being both birds 
of learning, would delight in each other's society, 
but never had he been more mistaken. They 
were eternally bickering. The one was a wit, 
the other a philosopher. The parrot quoted po- 
etry, was critical on new readings and eloquent 
on small points of erudition ; the owl treated all 
such knowledge as trifling, and relished nothing 
but metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing 
songs and repeat bon mots and crack jokes upon 
his solemn neighbor, and laugh outrageously 
at his own wit ; all which proceedings the owl 
considered as a grievous invasion of his dignity 
and would scowl and sulk and swell, and be si- 
tent for a whole day together. 

The })rince heeded not the wranglings of his 
X)mpanions, being wi*apped up in the dreams 



260 TOLEDO. 

of his own fancy and the contemplation of the 
portrait of the beautiful princess. In this way 
they journeyed through the stern passes of the 
Sierra Morena, across the sunburnt plains of La 
INIancha and Castile, and along the banks of the 
•' Golden Tagus," which winds its wizard mazes 
over one half of Spain and Portugal. At length 
they came in sight of a strong city with walls 
and towers built on a rocky promontory, round 
the foot of which the Tagus circled with brawl- 
ing violence. 

" Behold," exclaimed the owl, " the ancient and 
renowned city of Toledo ; a city famous for its 
antiquities. Beliold those venerable domes and 
towers, hoary with time and clothed with legen- 
dary grandeur, in which so many of my ancestors 
have meditated." 

" Pish ! " cried the parrot, interrupting liis 
solemn antiquarian rapture, " what have we to 
do with antiquities, and legends, and your ances- 
try ? Behold what is more to the purpose — 
behold the abode of youth and beauty — beliold 
at length, prince, the abode of your long-sought 
princess." 

The prince looked in the direction indicated 
by the parrot, and beheld, in a delightful green 
meadow on the banks of the Tagus, a stately 
palace rising from amidst the bowers of a deli- 
cious garden. It was just such a place as h;i(I 
been described by the dove as the residence of 
the original of the picture. He gazed at it with 
a throbbing heart ; " perhaps at this moment," 
thought he, " the beautiful princess is sporting 



THE AMBASSADOR PARROT. 261 

beneath those shady bowers, or pacing with deli 
cate step those stately terraces, or reposing be- 
neath those lofty roofs ! " As he looked more 
narrowly, he perceived that the walls of the gar- 
den "were of great height, so as to defy access, 
while numbers of armed guards patrolled around 
them. 

The prince turned to the parrot. " most 
accomplished of birds," said he, " thou hast the 
gift of human speech. Hie thee to yon garden ; 
seek the idol of my soul, and tell her that Prince 
Ahmed, a pilgrim of love, and guided by the 
stars, has arrived in quest of her on the flov/ery 
banks of the Tagus." 

The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away 
to the garden, mounted above its lofty walls, and 
after soaring for a time over the lawns and groves, 
alighted on the balcony of a pavilion that over- 
hung the river. Here, looking in at the case- 
ment, he beheld the princess reclining on a couch, 
with her eyes fixed on a paper, while tears gently 
stole after each other down her pallid cheek. 

Pluming his wino;s for a moment, adjusting his 
bright-green coat, and elevating his top-knot, the 
parrot perch-ed himself beside her with a gallant 
air ; then assuming a tenderness of tone, " Dry 
thy tears, most beautiftil of princesses," said he ; 
" I come to bring solace to thy heart." 

The princess was startled on hearing a voice ; 
but turning and seeing nothing but a little green- 
?()ated bird bobbing and bowing before her 
'* Alas ! what solace canst thou yield," said she. 
■* seeing thou art but a parrot ? " 



262 THE AMBASSADOR PARROT. 

The parrot was nettled at the question. " 1 
have cousoled many beautiful ladies in my time," 
said he ; " but let that pass. At present I come 
ambassador from a royal prince. Know that 
Ahmed, the pruice of Granada, has arrived in 
quest of thee, and is encamped even now i.a tlie 
flowery banks ot the Tagus." 

The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at 
these words even brighter than the diamonds in 
her coronet. " O sweetest of parrots," cried she, 
"joyful indeed are thy tidings, for I was faint 
and weary, and sick almost unto death with doubt 
of the constancy of Ahmed. Hie thee back, and 
tell him that the. words ot his letter are engraven 
in my heart, and his poetry has been the food of 
my soul. Tell him, however, that he must pre- 
pare to prove his love by force of arms ; to-mor- 
row is my seventeenth birthday, when the king 
my father holds a great tournament ; several 
princes are to enter the lists, and my hand is to 
be the prize of the victor." 

The parrot asjain took wing, and rustlins: 
through the groves, flew back to where the prince 
awaited his return. The rapture of Ahmed on 
finding the original of his adored portrait, and 
finding her kind and true, can only be conceived 
by those favored mortals ^vho have had the good 
fortune to realize day-dreams and turn a shadow 
inlo substance : still there was one thing that al- 
loyed his transport — this impending tournament 
In fiict, the banks of the Tagus were already 
glittering with arms, and resounding with trump- 
ets of the various knights, who, with proud reti- 



ENCHANTED ARMOR. 263 

nues, were prancing on towards Toledo to attend 
the ceremonial. TJie same star that had con- 
trolled the destiny of the prince had governed 
tliat of the princess, and nntil her seventeenth 
birthday she had been shut up from the world, 
to guai-d her from the tender passion. The fame 
of her charms, however, had been enhanced 
rather than obscured by this seclusion. Several 
powerful princes had contended for her hand ; 
and lier father, who was a king of wondrous 
shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing 
partiality, had referred them to the arbitrament 
of arms. Among the rival candidates were sev- 
eral renowned for strength and prowess. What 
a predicament for the unfortiuiate Ahmed, un- 
provided as he was with weapons, and unskilled 
in the exercise of chivalry ! " Luckless prince 
that 1 am ! " said he, " to have been brought up 
in seclusion under the eye of a philosopher ! Of 
what avail ai"e algebra and philosophy in affairs 
of love ? Alas, Eben Bonabben ! why hast thou 
neo-lected to insti-uct me in the manajrement of 
arms ? " Upon this the owl broke silence, pre- 
luding his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for 
he w^as a devout Mussulman. 

" Allah Akbar 1 God is great ! " exclaimed he ; 
^* in his hands are all secret things — he alone 
governs the destiny of princes ! Know, O prince, 
that this lantl is full of mysteries, hidden from 
all but those who. like myself, can grope after 
knowledge in the dark. Know that in the neigli- 
boring mountains there is a cave, and in that cavo 
there is an iron table, and on that table there lies 



264 ENCHANTED ARMOR. 

a suit of magic armor, and beside that table there 
stands a spell-bound steed, which have been shut 
up there for many generations." 

The prince stared with wonder, while the owl, 
blinking his huge round eyes, and erecting his 
horns, proceeded. 

" ]Many years since I accompanied my father 
to these parts on a tour of his estates, and we 
sojourned in that cave ; and thus became I ac- 
quainted with the mystery. It is a tradition in 
our family which I have heard from my grand- 
father, when I was yet but a very little owlet, 
that this armor belonged to a Moorish magician, 
who took refuge in this cavern when Toledo was 
captured by the Christians, and died here, leaving 
his steed and weapons under a mystic spell, never 
to be used but by a Moslem, and by him only 
from sunrise to mid-day. In that interval, who- 
ever uses them will overthrow every opponent." 

" Enough : let us seek this cave ! " exclaimed 
Ahmed. 

Guided by his legendary mentor, the prince 
found the cavei'n, which was in one of the wild- 
est recesses of those rocky cliffs which rise around 
Toledo ; none but the mousing eye of an owl or 
an antiquary could have discovered the entrance 
to it. A sepulchral lamp of everlasting oil shed 
a solemn light through the place. On an iron 
table in the centre of the cavern lay the magic 
armor, against it leaned the lance, and beside it 
stood an Arabian steed, caparisoned for the lield, 
but motionless as a statue. The armor was 
bright and unsullied as it had gleajot^d 'mx daya 



THE TOURNEY. 265 

of old ; the steed as in good condition as if just 
from the pasture ; and when Ahmed laid his 
hand upon his neck, he pawed the ground and 
gave a loud neigh of joy that shook the walls of 
the cavern. Thus amply provided with " horse 
and rider and weapon to wear," the prince de- 
tei mined t-o defy the field in the impending 
tourney. 

The eventful morning arrived. The lists tor 
the combat were prepared in the Vega, or plain, 
just below the cliff-built walls of Toledo, where 
stages and galleries were erected for the specta- 
tors, covered with rich tapestry, and sheltered 
from the sun by silken arvvnings. All the beauties 
of the land were assembled in those galleries, 
while below pranced plumed knights with their 
pages and esquires, among whom figured conspic- 
uously the princes who were to contend in the 
tourney. All the beauties of the land, however, 
were eclipsed when the Princess Aldegonda ap- 
peared in the royal pavilion, and for the first time 
broke forth upon the gaze of an admiring world. 
A murmur of wonder ran through the crowd at 
her transcendent loveliness ; and the princes 
who were candidates for her hand, merely on the 
faith of her reported charms, now felt tenfold 
ardor for the conflict. 

The princess, however, had a troubled look. 
The color came and went from her cheek, and 
her eye wandered with a restless and unsansKed 
expression over the plumed throng of knights. 
The trumpets were about sounding for tue en- 
counter, when the herald announced the aiflvaJ 



266 ENCHANTED ARMOR. 

of a strange knight ; and Ahmed rode into the 
field. A steel helmet studded with gems rose 
above his turban ; his cuirass was embossed with 
gold ; his cimeter and dagger were of the work- 
manship of Fez, and flamed with precious stones. 
A round shield was at his shoulder, and in his 
hand he bore the lance of charmed virtue. The 
caparison of his Arabian steed was richly em- 
broidered and swept the ground, and the proud 
animal pranced and snuffed the air, and neighed 
with joy at once more beholding the array of 
arms. The lofty and graceful demeanor of the 
prince struck every eye, and when his appellation 
was announced, " The Eilgrim of Love," a uni- 
versal flutter and agitation prevailed among the 
fair dames in the galleries. 

When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, 
however, they were closed against him : none but 
princes, he was told, wt^ie aduiitted to the contest. 
He declared his name and rank. Still worse ! — 
he was a Mosleui, and could not engage in a 
tourney where the hand of a Christian princess 
was the prize. 

The rival princes surrounded him with haughty 
and menacing aspects ; and one of insolent de- 
meanor and herculean frame sneered at his light 
and youthful form, and scoffed at his amorous 
appellation. The ire of the prince was roused. 
He defied his rival to the encounter. They took 
distance, wheeled, and charged ; and at the lirst 
touch of the magic lance, the brawny scoffer was 
tilted from his saddle. Here the prince wouhi 
have paused, but, alas ! he had to deal with a de- 



ENCHANTED ARMOR. 267 

moniuc liorse and armor ; once in action, notliin* 
fould contrpl them. The Arabian steed charged 
into the thickest of the throng; the hince over- 
turned everything tluit presented ; the gentld 
prince was carried pell-mell about the field, strew- 
ing it with high and low, gejitle and simple, and 
grieving at his own involuntary exploits. Tha 
king stormed and raged at this outrage on his 
subjects and his guests. lie ordered out all his 
guards — they were unhorsed as fast as they 
came up. The king threw off his robes, grasped 
buckler and lance, and rode tbrth to awe the 
stranger with the presence of majesty itself. 
Alas ! majesty fared no better than the vulgar ; 
the steed and lance were no respecters of persons ; 
to the dismay of Ahmed, he was borne full tilt 
against the king, and in a moment the royal heels 
were in the air, and the crown was rolling in the 
dust. 

At this moment the sun reached the meridian ; 
the magic spell resumed its power ; the Arabian 
steed scoured across the plain, leaped the barrier, 
plunged into the Tagus, swam its raging current, 
bore the prince breathless and amazed to the 
cavern, and resumed his station, like a statue, 
beside the iron table. The prince dismounted 
right gladly, and replaced the armor, to abide the 
further decrees of fate. Then seating himself in 
the cavern, he ruminated on the desperate state 
to which this demoniac steed and armor had re- 
duced him. Never should he dare to tdiow his 
face at Toledo after inflicting such disgrace upon 
its chivalry, and such an outrage on its king. 



268 THE R EP OR T OF THE PARR T. 

What too would the princess think of -so rude 
and riotous an achievement? Full* of onxiety, 
he sent forth his winged messengers to gathei 
tidings. Tiie parrot resorted to all the public 
places and crowded resorts of the city, and soon 
returned with a world of gossip. All Toledo was 
in consternation. The princess had been bonio 
off senseless to the palace ; the tournaroeni;; hai 
ended in confusion ; every one was talkiunr of ihi 
sudden apparition, prodigious exploits, and strange 
disappearance of the Moslem knight. Some pro- 
nounced him a Moorish magician ; others thoup-hv 
him a demon who had assumed a human shape, 
while others related traditions of enchanted war- 
riors hidden in the caves of the mountains, and 
thought it might be one of these, who had made 
a sudden irruption from his den. All apreed that 
no mere ordinary mortal could have wrought 
such wonders, or unhorsed such accomuJished and 
stalwart Christian warriors. 

The owl flew forth at night and hovered about 
the dusky city, perching on the roofs and chim- 
neys. He then wheeled his flight up to the roya) 
palace, which stood on a rocky summit of Toledo, 
and went prowling about its terraces and battle- 
ments, eavesdropping at every cranny, and glar- 
ing in with his big goggling eyes at every window 
where there was a light, so as to throw two oi 
three maids of honor into fits. It was not until 
the gray dawn began to peer above the mountains 
that he returned from his mousing expedition, 
and related to the prince what he had seen. 

" As I was prying about one of the loftiest 



THE REPORT OF THE OWL 269 

towers of the palace," said he, " I beheld through 
a casement a beautiful princess. Siie was re- 
clining on a couch with attendants and physicians 
around her, but she would none of their ministry 
and relief. When they retired, I beheld her draw 
forth a letter from her bosom, and read and kiss 
it, and give way to loud lamentations ; at which, 
philosopher as I am, I could but be greatly 
moved." 

The tender heart of Ahmed was distressed at 
these tidings. " Too true were thy words, O 
sage Eben Bonabben," cried he ; " care and sor- 
row and sleepless nights are the lot of lovers. 
Allah preserve the princess from the blighting 
influence of this thing called love ! " 

Further intelligence from Toledo corroborated 
ihe report of the owl. The city was a prey to 
uneasiness and alarm. The princess was con- 
veyed to the highest tower of the palace, every 
avenue to which was strongly guarded. In the 
mean time a devouring raelanciioly had seized 
upon her, of which no one could divine the cause 
— she refused food and turned a deaf ear to every 
consolation. The most skilful physicians had 
essayed their art in vain ; it was thought some 
magic spell had Ijeen practised upon her, and the 
king made pi'oclamation, declaring that whoever 
should effect her cure should receive the richest 
^ewel in the royal treasury. 

AVhen the owl, who was dozing in a corner, 
heard of this proclamation, he rolled his large 
'.yes and looked more mysterious than ever. 

" Allah Akbar ! " exclaimed he, *' happy the 



270 THE CARPET OF SOLOMON. 

man that sliall effect that cure, should he but 
know wliat to choose from the royal treasury." 

" What mean you, most reverend owl ? " said 
Almied. 

" Hearken, O prince, to what I shall relate. 
AVe owls, you must know, are a learned body, 
and much given to dark and dusty research. 
During my late prowling at night about the 
domes and turrets of Toledo, I discovered a col- 
lege of antiquarian owls, who hold their meetings 
in a great vaulted tower where the royal treasury 
is deposited. Here they were discussing the 
forms and inscriptions and designs of ancient 
gems and jewels, and of golden and silver vessels, 
heaped up in the treasury, the fashion of every 
country and age ; but mostly they were interested 
about certain relics and talismans that have re- 
mained in the treasury since the time of Roder- 
ick the Goth. Among these was a box of san- 
dal-wood secured by bands of steel of Oriental 
workmanship, and inscribed with mystic charac- 
tei'S known only to the learned few. This box 
and its inscription had occupied the college for 
several sessions, and had caused much long and 
grave dispute. At the time of my visit a very 
ancient owl, who had recently arrived fj-om Egypt, 
was seated on the lid of the box, lecturing upon 
the inscription, and he proved from it that the 
coffer contained the silken carpet of the throne 
o£ Solomon the Wise ; which doubtless had been 
l>rought to Toledo by the Jews who took refuge 
there after the downfall of Jei-nsalem." 

When the owl had concluded his antiquai'ian 



THE COUNTER-CnARM. 271 

har?in,2;Tie, the prince remained lor a time absorbed 
in tliought. " 1 have heard," said he, " from the 
sage Eben Bonabben, of the wonderful properties 
of tliat talisman, which disappeared at the fall 
of Jerusalem, and was supposed to be lost tc| 
mankind. Doubtless it remains a sealed mystery 
to the Christians of Toledo. If I can get pos- 
session of that carpet, my fortune is secure." 

Tlie next day the prince laid aside his ric^l at- 
tire, and arrayed himself in the simple garb of 
an Arab of the desert. He dyed his complexion 
to a tawny hue, and no one could have recognized 
in him the splendid warrior who had caused such 
admiration and dismay at the tournament. With 
staff in hand, and scrip by his side, and a small 
pastoral reed, he repaired to Toledo, and present- 
ing himself at the gate of the royal palace, an- 
nounced himseli' as a candidate for the reward 
offered for the cure of the princess. The guards 
would have driven him away with blows. " What 
can a vagrant Arab like thyself pretend to do," 
said they, " in a case where the most learned of 
the land have failed ? " The king, however, 
overheard the tumult, and ordered the Arab to 
be brought into his presence. 

" Most potent king," said Ahmed, " you be- 
hold before you a Bedouin Arab, the greater 
[)art of whose life has been passed in the soli- 
tudes of the desert. These solitudes, it is well 
Known are tlie liaunts of demons and evil 
rijiiiils, who beset us p(jor sheplierds in our lonely 
wutcliitigs, enter into and possess our Hocks and 
herds, and sometimes render even the patient 



272 THE POWER OF MUSIC. 

camel furious ; against these, our counter-charre 
is music ; and we have legendary airs handed 
down from generation to generation, that we 
chant and pipe, to cast forth these evil spirits. I 
am of a gifted line, and possess this power in its 
fullest force. If it be any evil influence of the 
kind that holds a spell over thy daughter, 1 
pledge my head to free her from its sway." 

T^ie king, who was a man of understanding, 
and knew the wonderful secrets possessed by the 
Arabs, was inspired with hope by the confident 
language of the prince. He conducted him im- 
mediately to the lofty tower, secured by several 
doors, in the summit of which was the chamber 
of the princess. The windows opened upon a 
terrace with balustrades, commanding a view over 
Toledo and all the surrounding country. The 
windows were darkened, for the princess lay 
within, a prey to a devouring grief that refused 
all alleviation. 

The prince seate<l himself on the terrace, and 
performed several wild Arabian airs on his pas- 
toral pipe, which lie had learnt from his attend- 
ants in the Generalife at Granada. The princess 
continued insensiljle, and the doctors who were 
present shook their heads, and smiled with incre- 
dulity and contempt : at length the prince laid 
aside the reed, and, to a simple melody, chanted 
the amatory verses of the letter which had de- 
dared his passion. 

The princess recognized the strain — a flutter- 
ing joy stole to her heart ; she raised her head and 
listened ; teai's ruslied to her eyes and streamed 



2' HE CARPET OE SuLUJIOX. 273 

down her cheeks : her bo.som rose and fell with 
H tumult of emotions. She N\'ouicl have asked 
lor the min.-titji to i^e brought inio her ])resence, 
but maiden coyness held her silent. The king 
read her wishes, and at his command Ahmed was 
eonduct(,'d into the chamber. The lovers were 
discreet : they but exchanged glances, yet those 
glances spoke volumes. Never was triumph of 
music more complete. The rose had returned to 
the soft cheek of the princess, the freshness lo 
her lip, and the dewy light to her languishing 
eyes. 

All the physicians present stared at each other 
with astonishment. Tiie king regarded the Arab 
minstrel with admiration mixed with awe. 
" Wonderful youth ! " exclaimed he, '' thou shalt 
henceforth be the hrst physician of my court, and 
no other prescription will 1 take but thy melody. 
For the present receive thy reward, the most 
precious jewel in my treasury." 

" O king," replied Ahmed, " I care not for sil- 
ver or gold or precious stones. One relic iiast 
thou in thy treasury, handed down from the Mos- 
lems who once owned Toledo — a box of sandal- 
wood containing a silken carpet : give me that 
box, and 1 am content." 

All present were surprised at the moderation 
of the Arab, and still more when the box of 
sandal-wood was brought and the carpet drawn 
forth. It was of fine green silk, covered with 
Hebrew and Chaldaic characters. The court 
physicians looked at each other, shrugged their 
shoulders, and smiled at the simplicity of this 
18 



27-t THE CARPET OF SOLOMON. 

new practitioner, wlio could be content witli so 
paltry a tee. 

" Tliis carpet," said the prince, " once covered 
the throne of Solomon the Wise ; it is \\'orthy of 
being placed beneath the feet of beauty." 

So saying, he spread it on the terrace beneath 
an ottoman that had been brought forth for tl;a 
princess ; then seating himself at her feet — 

'' Who," said he, " shall counteract what is 
written in the book of fate ? Behold the pre- 
diction of the astrologers verified. Know, O 
king, that your daughter and 1 have long loved 
each other in secret. Behold in me the Pilgrim 
of Love ! " 

These words were scarcely from his lips when 
the carpet rose in the air, bearing off the prince 
and princess. The king and the physicians gazed 
after it with open mouths and straining eyes until 
it became a little speck on the white bosom of a 
cloud, and then disappeared in the blue vault of 
heaven. 

The king in a rage summoned his treasurer. 
" How is this," said he, " that thou hast suffered 
an infidel to get possession of such a talisman H " 

" Alas, sir, we knew not its nature, nor could 
we decipher the inscription of the box. U it be 
indeed the carpet of the throne of tiie wise Sol- 
omon, it is possessed of magic power, and aui 
transport its owner from place to place throiigli 
the air." 

The king assembled a mighty army, and set 
off for Granada in pursuit of the fugitives. His 
march was long and toilsome. . Encamping in the 



THE COURT OF AHMED. 275 

Vega, ho sent a herald to demand restitution of 
his daughter. The king himself came forth with 
all his court to meet him. In the king he be- 
held the real minstrel, for Ahmed had succeeded 
to the throne on the death of his father, and the 
beautiful Aldegonda was his sultana. 

The Christian king was easily pacified whe« 
he found that his daughter was suffered to con- 
tinue in her faith ; not that he was particularly 
pious, but religion is always a point of pride 
and etiquette with princes. Instead of bloody 
battles, there was a succession of feasts and re- 
joicings, after which the king returned well 
pleased to Toledo, and the youthful couple con- 
tinued to reign as happily as wisely, in the Al- 
hambra. 

It is proper to add, that the owl and the parrot 
had severally followed the prince by easy stages 
to Granada ; the former travelling by night, and 
stopping at the various hereditary possessions of 
his family ; the latter figuring in gay circles of 
every town and city on his route. 

Ahmed gratefully requited the services which 
they had rendered on his pilgrimage. He ap- 
pointed the owl his prime minister, the parrot his 
master of ceremonies. It is"* needless to say that 
never was a realm more sagely administered, nor 
a court conducted with more exact punctilio. 




A RAIVIBLE AJVIONG THE HILLS. 




USED frequently to amuse myself to- 
wards the close of the day, when the 
heat had subsided, with taking long 
rambles about the neighboring hills and the deep 
umbrageous valleys, accompanied by my historio- 
graphic squire, Mateo, to whose passion for gos- 
siping I on such occasions gave the most un- 
bounded license ; and there was scarce a rock, or 
ruin, or broken fountain, or lonely glen, about 
which he had not some marvellous story ; or, 
above all, some golden legend ; for never was 
poor devil so munificent in dispensing hidden 
treasures. 

In the course of one of these strolls Mateo 
was more than usually communicative. It was 
toward sunset that we sallied forth from the great 
Gate of Justice, and ascended an alley of trees 
until we came to a dump of figs and pomegran- 
ates at the foot of the Tower of the Seven Floors 
(de los siete suelos), the identical tower whence 
Boabdil is said to have issued, when he suri-cii- 
dered his capital. Here, pointing to a low arch- 
way in the foundation, Mateo informed me of a 
monstrous sprite or hobgoblin, said to infest this 
tower, ever since the time of the Moors, and to 



Tin: BLLLUDO. Til 

guard the treasures of a Moslem king. Some* 
times it issues forth in the dead of the night, and 
scours the avenues of the Alhambra, and the 
streets of Granada, in the shape of a headless 
horse, pursued by six dogs with terrible yells aud 
liowlings. 

" But have you ever met with it yourself, 
Mateo, in any of your rambles ? " demanded I. 

" No, Senor, God he thanked ! but my grand- 
father, the tailor, knew several persons that had 
seen it, for it went about much oftener in his time 
than at present ; sometimes in one shape, some- 
times in another. Everybody in Granada has 
heard of the Belludo, for the old women and the 
nurses frighten the children with it when they 
cry. Some say it is the spirit of a cruel Moor- 
ish king, who killed his six sons and buried them 
in these vaults, and that they hunt him at nights 
in revenge." 

I forbear to dwell upon the marvellous details 
given by the simple-minded Mateo about this re- 
doubtable phantom, which has, in fact, been time 
out of mind a favorite theme of nursery tales and 
popular tradition in Granada, and of which hon- 
orable mention is made by an ancient and learned 
historian and topographer of the place. 

Leaving this e^•entful pile, we continued our 
course, skirting the fruitful orchards of the Gen- 
ei-alife, in which two or three nightingales were 
pouring forth a rich strain of melody. Behind 
these orchards we passed a number of Moorish 
tanks, with a door cut into the rocky bosom of 
the hill, but closed up. These tanks, Mateo in 



278 THE RAVINE OF THE JAR. 

formed me, were favorite bathing-places of him- 
self and his comrades in boyhood, until frightened 
away by a story of a hideous Moor, who used to 
issue forth from the door in the rock to entrap 
uuwfiry bathers. 

Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, wo 
pursued our ramble up a solitary mule-path wind- 
ing among the hills, and soon found ourselves 
amidst wild and melancholy mountains, destitute 
of trees, and here and there tinted with scanty 
verdure. Everytlung within sight was severe 
and sterile, and it was scarcely possible to real- 
ize the idea that but a short distance behind us 
was the Generalife, Avith its blooming orchards 
and terraced gardens, and that we were in the 
vicinity of delicious Granada, that city of groves 
and fountains. But such is the nature of Spain ; 
wila and stern the moment it escapes from culti- 
vation ; the desert and the garden are ever side 
by side. 

The narrow defile up which we were passing 
is called, according to Mateo, el Barranco de la 
tinajay or the ravine of the jar, because a jar full 
of Moorish gold was found here in old times. 
The brain of poor Mateo was continually run- 
ning upon these golden legends. 

" But what is the meaning of the cross I see 
yonder upon a heap of stones, in that narrcw 
part of tUe ravine ? " 

" Oh, that 's nothing — a muleteer was mur- 
dered there some yeai'S since." 

" So then, Mateo, you have robbers and mur 
derers even at the o-ates of the Alhambra ? " 



THE HOUR OF ORATION. 279 

*' Not at present, Senor ; that was formerly, 
when there used to be many loose fellows about 
the fortress; but they've all been weeded out. 
Not but that the gypsies who live in caves in the 
hill-sides, just out of the fortress, are many of 
them fit for anything ; but we have had no mur- 
der abo\it here for a long time past. The man 
who murdered the muleteer was hanged in the 
fortress." 

Our path continued up the barranco, with a 
bold, rugged height to our left, called the " Silla 
del Moro," or Chair of the Moor, from the tra- 
dition already alluded to, that the unfortunate 
Boabdil fled thither during a popular insurrection, 
and remained all day seated on the rocky summit, 
looking mournfully down on his factious city. 

We at length arrived on the highest part of the 
promontory above Granada, called the mountain 
of the sun. The evening was approaching ; the 
setting sun just gilded the loftiest heights. Here 
and there a solitary shepherd might be descried 
driving his flock down the declivities, to be folded 
for the nio'ht ; or a muleteer and his lajriiino: an- 
imals, threading some mountain path to arrive at 
the city gates before nightfall. 

Presently the deep tones of the Cathedral bell 
came swelling up the defiles, proclaiming the hour 
of " oration '' or prayer. The note was re- 
sponded to from the belfry of every church, and 
from the sweet bells of the convents among the 
mountains. The shepherd paused on the told of 
the hill, the muleteer in the midst of the road ; 
each took off his hat and remained motionless 



280 S UB TERRA XKAN CA VERXS. 

for a time, raurrauring his evening prayer. There 
is always something pleasingly solemn in this 
custom, by which, at a melodious signal, every 
human being throughout the land unites at tlie 
same moment in a tribute of thanks to God for 
the mercies of the day. It spreads a transient 
sanctity over the land, and the sight of the snu 
sinking in all his glory adds not a little to tlie 
solemnity of the scene. 

In the present instance the effect was height* 
ened by the wild and lonely nature of the place. 
We were on the naked and broken summit of the 
haunted mountain of the sun, where ruined tanks 
and cisterns, and the mouldering foundations of 
extensive builditigs, spoke of former populousness, 
but where all was now silent and desolate. 

As we were wandering about among these 
traces of old times, we came to a circular pit, 
penetrating deep into the bosom of the mountain ; 
which Mateo pointed out as one of the wonders 
and mysteries of the place. I supposed it to be 
a well dug by the indefatigable Moors, to obtain 
their favorite element in its greatest purity. 
Mateo, however, had a different story, and one 
much more to his humor. According to a tra- 
dition, in which his father and grandfather firmly 
believed, this was an entrance to the subterranean 
caverns of the mountain, in which Boabdil and 
his court lay bound in magic spell ; and whence 
they sallied forth at niglit, at allotted times, to 
revisit their ancient abodes. 

"Ah, Senor, this mountain is full of wonders 
<rf the kind. In another place there was a hole 



THE IRON POT. 281 

somewhat like this, and just within it hung an 
iron pot bv a chain ; nobody knew what was in 
that pot, for it was always covered up ; but every 
body supposed it full of Moorish gold. Many 
tried to draw it forth, for it seemed just witiiin 
reach ; but the moment it was touched it would 
sink far, far down, and not come up again for 
some time. At last one who thought it must be 
enciianted touched it with the cross, by way of 
breaking the charm ; and faith he did break it, 
for the pot sank out of sight and never was seen 
any more. 

" All this is fact, Seiior ; for my grandfather 
was an eye-witness." 

" What ! Mateo ; did he see the pot ? " 

" No, Seiior, but he saw the hole where the 
pot had hung." 

" It 's the same thing, Mateo." 

The deepening twilight, which in this climate 
is of short duration, admonished us to leave this 
haunted ground. As we descended the mountain 
detile, there was no longer herdsman nor mule- 
teer to be seen, nor anything to be heai'd but 
our own footsteps and the lonely chirping of the 
cricket. The shadows of the valley grew deeper 
and deeper, until all was dark around us. The 
lofty summit of the Sierra Nevada alone retained 
a lingering gleam of daylight ; its snowy peaks 
glaring against the dark blue firmament, and 
seeming close to us, from the extreme purity of 
the atmosphere 

" How near the Sierra looks this evening ! " 
said Mateo ; " it seems as if you could touch il 



282 LIGHTS ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

with your liand ; and yet it is many long leagues 
off." Wliile he was speaking, a star appeared 
over the snowy summit of the mountain, the only 
one yet visible in the heavens, and so pure, so 
large, so bright and beautiful, as to call forth 
ejaculations of delight from honest Mateo. 

'" Que estrella hermosa ! que clara y limpia 
es ! — No pueda ser estrella mas brillante ! " 

(What a beautiful star ! how clear and lucid 
- — a star could not be more brilliant !) 

I have often remarked this sensibility of the 
common people of S})ain to the charms of natural 
objects. The lustre of a star, the beauty or fra- 
grance of a flower, the crystal purity of a foun- 
tain, will inspire tliem with a kind of poetical de- 
light ; and then, what euphonious words their 
ma";nificent lano-uao'e affords, with which to give 
utterance to their transports ! 

" But what liglits are those, Mateo, which I 
see twinkling along the Sierra Nevada, just be- 
low the snowy region, and which might be taken 
for stars, only that they are ruddy, and against 
the dark side of the mountain ? " 

" Those, Senor, are fires, made by the men 
who gather snow and ice for the supply of Gra- 
nada. They go up every afternoon with mules 
and asses, and take turns, some to rest and warm 
themselves by the tires, while others fill the pan- 
niers with ice. Tliey then set off down the 
mountains, so as to reach the gates of Granada 
before sunrise. That Sierra Nev.'la, Senor, is a 
lum}> of ice in the middle of Andalusia, to keep 
it all cool in summer." 



FIGURES BY MOONLIGHT. 283 

It was now completely dark ; we were passiii^ 
through the bai'ianco, where stood the cross of 
the murdered muleteer, when I beheld a iiumbei' 
of lights moving at a distance, and apparently 
advancing up the ravine. On nearer ap])roacli, 
they proved to be torches boi-ne by a train of un- 
couth figures arrayed in black: it would have 
been a procession dreary enough at any time, but 
was peculiarly so in this wild and solitary place. 

Mateo drew near, and told me, in a low voice, 
that it was a funeral train bearing a corpse to 
the burying-gi'ound among the hills. 

As the procession passed by, the lugubrious 
light of tlie torches, falling on the rugged features 
and funeral-weeds of the attendants, had the 
most fantastic effect, but was perfectly ghastly, 
as it revealed the countenance of the corpse, 
which, according to the Spanish custom, was 
borne uncovered on an open bier. 1 remained 
for some time gazing after the dreary train as it 
wound up the dark defile of the mountain. It 
put me in mind of the old story of a procession 
of demons bearing the body of a sinner up the 
crater of Stromboli. 

" Ah ! Seiior," cried Mateo, " I could tell you 
a story of a procession once seen among these 
mountains, but then you 'd laugh at me, and say 
it was one of the legacies of my grandfather thu 
tailor." 

" By no means, Mateo. There is nothing I 
relish more than a marvellous tale.'' 

" Well, Senor, it is about one of those very 
men we have been talking of, who gather snow 
on the Sierra Nevada. 



284 THE PHANTOM ARMY. 

" You must know, that a great many years 
since, in my grandfather's time, there was an old 
fellow, Tio Nicolo [Uncle Nicholas] by name, 
who had till-ed the panniers of his mule wilh ^now 
and ice, and was returning down the mouutaia. 
Being very drowsy, he mounted upon the mule, 
and soon falling asleep, went with his head nodding 
and bobbing about from side to side, while his 
sure-footed old mule stepped along the edge of 
precipices, and down steep and broken barrancos,, 
just as safe and steady as if it had been on plain 
ground. At length Tio Nicolo awoke, and gazed 
about him, and rubbed his eyes — and, in good 
truth, he had reason. The moon shone almost 
as bright as day, and he saw the city below 
him, as plain as your hand, and shining with its 
white buildings, like a silver platter, in the moon- 
shine; but. Lord ! Seiior, it was nothing like the 
city he had left a few hours before ! Instead of 
the cathedral, with its great dome and turrets, 
And the churches with their spires, and the con- 
vents with their pinnacles, all surmounted wi[h 
the blessed cross, he saw nothing but Moorish 
mosques, and minarets, and cupolas, all topped 
off with glittering crescents, such as you see on 
the Barbary flags. Well, Senor, as you may 
suppose, Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at all 
this, but while he was gazing down upon the cily, 
a great army came marching up the mountains, 
winding along the ravines, sometimes in the 
moonshine, sometimes in the shade. As it drew 
uigii, he saw tliat there were horse and foot, all 
in Moorish armor. Tio Nicolo tried to scramble 



THE PHANTOM ARMY. 285 

out of tlieir way, but Iiis old mule stood stock 
Btill, and refused to budge, trembling, at the same 
time, like a leafj — for dumb beasts, Senor, are 
just as much frightened at such things as human 
beings. "VV^ell, Senor, tiie hobgoblin army came 
marching by ; there were men that seemed to 
blow trumpets, and others to beat drums and 
strike cymbals, yet never a sound did they make ; 
they all moved on without the least noise, jusl 
as I have seen painted armies move across the 
stage in the theatre of Granada, and all looked 
as pale as death. At last, in the rear of the 
army, between two black Moorish horsemen, rode 
the Grand Inquisitor of Granada, on a mule as 
white as snow. Tio Nicolo wondered to see him 
in such company, for the Inquisitor was famous 
for his hatred of Moors, and, indeed, of all kinds 
of Infidels, JeM^s, and heretics, and used to hunt 
them out with fire and scourge. However, Tio 
Kicolo felt himself safe, now that there was a 
priest of such sanctity at hand. So making the 
sign of the cross, he called out for his benedic- 
tion, when, hombre ! he received a blow that 
sent him and his old mule over the edge of a 
steep bank, down which they rolled, head-over- 
heels, to the bottom ! Tio Nicolo did not come 
to his senses until long after sunrise, when he 
found himself at the bottom of a deep ravine, 
LLs nmle grazing beside him, and his panniers of 
6now completely melted. He crawled back to 
Granada sorely bruised and battered, but was 
glad to find the city looking as usual, with Chris- 
tian churches and crosses. When he told the 



28 G THE BELLUDO. 

story of his night's adventure, every one langhed 
at him ; some said he had dreamed it all, as 
he dozed on his mule ; others thought it all a 
fabrication of his own ; but what was strange, 
Seiior, and made people afterwards think more 
seriously of the matter, was, that the Grand In- 
quisitor died within the year. I have often heard 
my grandfather, the tailor, say, that there was 
more meant by that hobgoblin army bearing off 
tne resemblance of the priest, than folks dared to 
surmise." 

*' Then you would insinuate, friend Mateo, that 
there is a kind of Moorish limbo, or piu'gatory, 
in the bowels of these mountains, to which the 
padre Inquisitor was borne off." 

" God forbid, Senor ! I know nothing of the 
matter. I only relate what I heard from my 
grandfather." 

Sy the time Mateo had finished the tale, which 
I have more succinctly related, and which was 
interlarded with many comments, and spun out 
with minute details, we reached the gate of the 
Alhambra. 

The marvellous stories hinted at by Mateo, in 
the early part of our ramble about the Tower of 
the Seven Floors, set me as usual upon my gob- 
lin reseai'ches. I found that the redoubtable 
phantom the Belludo, had been time out of mind 
a favorite theme of nursery tales and popular tra- 
ditions in Granada, and that honorable mention 
had even been made of it by an ancient historian 
and topographer of the place. The scattered 
members of one of these popular traditions I 



THE BELLUDO. 



2»7 



nave gathered top^ether, collated them with infi- 
nite pains, and digested them into the following 
legend ; which only wants a number of learned 
notes and references at bottom to take its rank 
among those concrete productions gravely passed 
ufon the world for Historical Facts. 




LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 




SlUST within the fortress of the Alhani- 
bra, in front of the royal palace, is a 
broad open esplanade, called the Place 
01' Square of the Cisterns, (la Plaza de los Algi- 
bes,) so called from being undermined by reser- 
voirs of water, hidden from sight, and which have 
existed from the time of the Moors. At one cor- 
ner of this esplanade is a JNloorish well, cut 
through the living rock to a great depth, the 
water of which is cold as ice and clear as crystal. 
The wells made by the Moors are always in re- 
pute, for it is well known what pains they took 
to penetrate to the purest and sweetest springs 
and fountains. The one of which we now speak 
is famous throughout Granada, insomuch that 
water-carriers, some bearing great water-jars on 
their shoulders, others driving asses before them 
laden with earthen vessels, are ascending and 
descending the steep woody avenues of the Al- 
hambra. from early dawn until a late hour of the 
night. 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural 
days, have been noted gossiping- places in hot 
climj>tes ; and at the well in question there is a 
kind of perpetual club kept up during the live- 



THE WATER-CARRIER. 289 

\on^ day, by the invalids, old women, and other 
curious do-nothing folk of the fortress, who sit 
Iiere on the stone benches, under an awning 
spread over the well to shelter the toll-gatherer 
fioin the sun, and dawdle over the gossip of the 
fortress, and question every water-carrier that 
arrives about the news of the city, and make 
long comments on everything they hear and see. 
Not an hour of the day but loitering housewives 
and idle maid-servants may be seen, lingering, 
with pitcher on head or in hand, to hear the last 
of the endless tattle of these worthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted 
to this well, there was a sturdy, strong-backed, 
bandy-legged little fellow, named Pedro Gil, but 
called Peregil for shortness. Being a water-car- 
rier, he was a Gallego, or native of Gallicia, of 
course. Nature seems to have formed races of 
men, as she has of animals, for different kinds of 
drudgery. In France the shoeblacks are all Sa- 
voyards, the porters of hotels all Swiss, and in 
the days of hoops and hair-powder in England, 
no man could give the regular swing to a sedan- 
chair but a bog-trotting Irishman. So in Spain, 
the carriers of water and bearers of burdens are 
all sturdy little natives of Gallicia. No man 
says, " Get me a porter," but, " Call a Gallego." 

To return from this digression, Peregil the 
Gallego had begun business with merely a great 
earthen jar which he carried upon his shoulder ; 
by degrees he rose in the world, and was enabled 
to pui chase an assistant of a correspondent class 
of animals, bein-g a stout shaggy-haired donkey. 
19 



290 A POOR MAN'S HELP MATE. 

On each side of this his long-eared aide-de-camp, 
in a kind of pannier, were shuig his water-jars, 
covered witli tig-leaves to protect them from the 
sun. There was not a more industrious water- 
carrier in all Granada, nor one more merry 
vs^ithal. The streets rang with his cheerful voice 
as he trudged after his donkey, singing forth the 
usual summer note that resounds through the 
Spanish towns: '-''Quien qidere agua — agua mas 
fria que la nieve ? *' — " Who wants water — 
water colder than snoAv ? Wlio wants water from 
the well of the Alhambra, cold as ice and clear 
as crystal ? " When he served a customer with 
a sparkling glass, it -svas always with a pleasant 
word that caused a smile ; and if, percjhanee, it was 
a comely dame or dimpling damsel, it was always 
with a sly leer and a compliment to her beauty 
that was irresistible. Thus Pc-rejjil the Galle<io 
was noted throughout all Gt'anada for being one 
of the civilest, pleasantest, and happiest of mor- 
tals. Yet it is not he who sings loudest and 
jokes most tliat has the lightest heart. Under all 
this air of merriment, lionest Peregil had his cares 
and troubles. He had a large family of ragged 
children to support, who were hungry and clam- 
orous as a nest of young swallows, and beset 
him with tlieir outcries for food whenever he 
came home of an evening. He had a helpmate, 
too, who was anything but a help to him. Slie 
had been a villnge beauty befoi-e marriage, noted 
foi- iier skill at dancing the bolero and rati Hug 
the ciistanets ; and she still retained iier eai'ly 
piopensities, spending the hard earnings of honest 



A POOR JfAN'S HELP. y ATE. 29] 

Peregil in fi-ippery, and laying the very donkey 
under requisition for junketing parties into the 
country on Sundays, and saint's days, and those 
innumerable holidays which are rather more nu- 
merous in Spain than the days of the week. 
With all this she was a little of a slattern, some- 
thing more of a lie-abed, and, above all, a gossip 
of the first water : neglecting house, household, 
and everything else, to loiter slipshod in the 
houses of her gossip neighbors. 

He, however, who tempers the wind to the 
shorn lamb, accommodates the yoke of matrimony 
to the submissive neck. Peregil bore all the 
heavy dispensations of wife and children with as 
meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water-jars ; 
and, however he might shake his ears in private, 
never ventured to question the household virtues 
of his slattern spouse. 

He loved his children, too, even as an owl loves 
its owlets, seeino- in them his own image mul- 
tiplied and perpetuated ; for they were a sturdy, 
long-backed, bandy-legged little brood. The great 
pleasure of honest Perej.^il was, whenever he 
could afford himself a scanty holiday, and had a 
handful of maravedis to spare, to take the whole 
litter forth with him, some in his arms, some tug- 
ging at his skirts, and some trudging at his heels, 
and to treat them to a gambol amonn; the orchards 
of the Vega, while his wife was dancing with 
her holiday friends in the Angosturas of the* 
Darro. 

It was a late hour one summer night, and 
■nost of the water-carriers had desisted from thei» 



292 THE WELL OE THE ALU AM BRA. 

toils. The day had been inicomiiioiily sultry ; 
the night was one of those delicious moonlights 
which tempt the hihabitants of southern climes 
to indemnify themselves for the lieat and inaction 
of the day, by lingering in the open air, and en- 
jo}ang its tempered sweetness until after midnight. 
Customers for water were therefore still abroad. 
Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking father, 
tliought of his hungry children. " One mo]-e 
journey to the well," said he to himself, " to earn 
a Sunday's puchero for the little ones." So say- 
ing, he trudged manfully up the steep avenue of 
the Alhambra, singing as he went, and now and 
tiien bestowing a hearty thwack Avith a cudgel on 
the flanks of his donkey, either by way of ca- 
dence to the song, or refreshment to the animal ; 
lor dry blows serve in lieu of provender in Spain 
for all beasts of burden. 

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted 
by every one except a solitary stranger in Moor- 
ish garb, seated on a stone bench in the moon- 
light. Peregil paused at first and regarded him 
with surprise, not un.nixed with awe, but the 
Moor feebly beckoned him to approach. " I am 
faint and ill," said he ; " aid me to return to tlie 
city, and I will pay thee double what thou 
couldst gain by thy jars of water." 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier 
was touched with compassion at the appeal of the 
sti-anger. " God forbid," said he, " that I should 
Qsk fee or reward for tloing a common act of hu- 
manity." He accoidingly helped tiie Moor on his 
ionkey, and set olF slowly lor Granada, the poor 



THE TURBAN ED GUEST. 293 

Moslem being so weak that it was necessary to 
hold him on the animal to keep him fi'om falling 
to the earth. 

When they entered the city, the water-carrier 
demanded whither he should conduct him. 
" Alas ! " said the Moor, fliintly, " I have neither 
home nor habitation ; I am a stranger in the land. 
Suffer me to lay my head this niglit beneath thy 
roof, and thou shalt be amply repaid." 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly 
saddled with an infidel guest, but he was too 
humane to refuse a night's shelter to a fellow- 
being in so forlorn a plight ; so he conducted the 
Moor to his dwelling. The children, who had 
sallied forth open-mouthed as usual on hearing 
the tramp of the donkey, ran back with affright 
when they beheld the turbaned stranger, and hid 
themselves behind their mother. The latter 
stepped forth intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before 
her brood when a vagrant dog approaclies. 

" What infidel companion," cried she, " is this 
you have brought home at this late hour, to draw 
upon us the eyes of the inquisition ? " 

" Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego ; " here 
is a poor sick stranger, without friend or home ; 
wouldst thou turn him forth to perish in the 
streets ? " 

The wife would still have remonstrated, for 
although she lived in a hovel, she was a furious 
stickler for the credit of her house ; the little 
water-carrier, however, for once was stiffnccked, 
ind refused to bend beneath the yoke. lie as- 
uisted the poor Moslem to alight, and spread a 



294 THE TURBAN ED GUEST. 

mat and a sheep-skin for him, on the ground, in 
the coolest part of the house ; being the only 
kind of bed that his poverty afforded. 

In a little while the Moor was seized with 
violent convnlsions, which defied all the minis- 
tering skill of the simple water-carrier. The 
eye of the poor patient acknowledged his kind- 
ness. During an interval of his fits he called 
him to his side, and addressing him in a low 
voice, " My end," said he, " I fear is at hand. 
If I die, I bequeath you this box as a reward 
for your charity : " so saying, he opened his al- 
bornoz, or cloak, and showed a small box of 
sandal-wood, strapped round his body. " God 
grant, my friend," replied the worthy little 
Gallego, '• that you may live many years to en- 
joy your treasure, whatever it may be." The 
Moor shook his liead ; he laid his hand upon the 
box, and would have said something more con- 
cerning it, but his convulsions returned with in- 
creasing violence, and in a little while he expired. 

The water-carrier's wife was now as one dis- 
tracted. " This comes," said she, " of your fool- 
ish good-nature, always running into scrapes to 
oblige others.' What will become of us when 
this corpse is found in our house ? We shall be 
sent to prison as murderers ; and if we escape 
with our lives, shall be ruined by notaries and 
alguazils." 

Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and 
almost repented himself of having done a good 
deed. At len^jth a thought struck him. " It is 
uot yet day," said he ; " I can convey the dead 



A GOSSIP BARBER 295 

boi]y out of tlie city, and bury it in the sands on 
the banks of the Xenil. No one saw the Moor 
enter our dwelling, and no one will know any- 
thin<j; of his death." 

So said, so done. The wife aided him ; they 
rolled the body of the unfortunate Moslem in the 
mat on which he had expired, laid it across the 
aH.s, and Peregil set out with it for the banks ot 
the river. 

As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite 
to the water-carrier a barber named Fedrillo 
Pedrugo, one of the most prying, tattling, and 
misciiief-making of his gossip tribe. He was a 
weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, supple and in- 
sinuating ; the famous barber of Seville could 
not surpass him tor his universal knowledge of 
the afiairs of others, and he had no more power 
of retention than a sieve. It was said that he 
slept but with one eye at a time, and kept one 
ear uncovered, so that even in his sleep he 
migiit see and hear all that was going on. Cer- 
tain it is, he was a sort of scandalous chronicle 
for the quidnuncs of Granada, and had more 
customers than all the rest of his fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive 
at an unusual hour at night, and the exclama- 
tions of his wife and children. His head was 
instantly popped out of a little window which 
served liim as a look-out, and he saw his neigh- 
bor assist a man in Moorish garb into his dwell- 
'ng. This was so strange an occurrence, that 
Pedrillo Pedrugb slept not a wink that night. 
Every five niiuutes he was at his loophole 



296 A GRIPING ALCALDE. 

watching the lights that gleamed through the 
chinks of his neighbor's door, and before daylight 
he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey 
uiuisually laden. 

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget ; he 
slipped on his clothes, and, stealing forth silently 
followed the water-carrier at a distance, until he 
saw him dig a hole in the sandy bank of the 
Xenil, and bury something that had the appear- 
ance of a dead body. 

The barber hied him home, and fidgeted about 
his shop, setting everything upside down, until 
sunrise. He then took a basin under his arm, 
and sallied forth to the house of his daily cus- 
tomer the alcalde. 

The alcalde was just risen. Pedi-illo Pedrugo 
seated him in a chair, threw a napkin round his 
neck, put a basin of hot water under his chin, 
and began to mollify his beard with his fingers. 

" Strange doings ! " said Pedrugo, who played 
barber and newsmonger at the same time, — ■ 
'' strange doings ! Robbery, and murder, and 
burial all in one night ! " 

"' Hey ! — how ! — what is that you say ? " 
cried tlie alcalde. 

" I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece 
of soap over the nose and mouth of the dignitary, 
for a Spanish barber disdains to employ a brush, 
— "I say that Peregil the Gallego has robbed and 
murdered a Moorish jMussulman, and buried hiui, 
this blessed night. JSLddita sea la noche ; — Ac- 
cursed be the night for the same ! " 

" But how do you know all this ? " demanded 
the alcalde. 



A LEGAL BLOODHOUND. 297 

" Be patient, Seiior, and you shall hear all 
about it," replied Pedrillo, taking him by the nose 
and sliding a razor over his cheek. Pie then 
recounted all that he had seen, going through 
both operations at the same time, shaving his 
beard, washnig his chin, and wiping him dry 
with a dirty napkin, while he v/as robbing, mur- 
dering, and burying the Moslem. 

Now it so happened that this alcalde was one 
of the most overbearing, and at the same time 
most griping and corrupt curmudgeons in all 
Granada. It could not be denied, however, tliat 
he set a high value upon justice, for he sold it at 
its weight in gold. He presumed the case in 
point to be one of murder and robbery ; doubt- 
less there must be a rich spoil ; how was it to be 
secured into the legitimate hands of the law ? 
for as to merely entrapping the delinquent — that 
would be feeding the gallows ; but entrapping 
the booty — that would be enriching the judge, 
and such, according to his ci-eed, was the great 
end of justice. So thinking, he summoned to 
his presence his trustiest alguazil — a gaunt, 
hungry-looking varlet, clad, according to the cus- 
tom of his order, in the ancient Spanish garb, a 
broad black beaver turned up at its sides ; a 
quaint ruff; a small black cloak dangling from 
his shoulders ; rusty black under-clothes that 
set off his spare wiry frame, while in his hand 
lie bore a slender white wand, the dreaded in- 
si";nia of his otfice. Such was the leijal blood- 
hound of the ancient vSpanish breed, that he put 
upon the traces of the unlucky water-carrier, and 



298 THE BOX OF SAX DAL- WOOD. 

such was his speed and certainty, that he was 
upon the haunches of poor Feregil before he 
had returned to his dwelhng, and brought both 
him and his donkey before the dispenser of jus- 
tice. 

The alcalde bent upon him one of the most 
terrific frowns. " Hark ye, culprit ! " roared he, 
in a voice that made the knees of the little Gal- 
lego smite together, — "hark ye, culprit ! there 
is no need of denying thy guilt, everything is 
known to me. A gallows is tiie proper reward 
for the crime thou hast committed, but I am 
merciful, and readily listen to reason. The man 
that has been murdered in tiiy house was a Moor, 
an infidel, the enemy of our faith. It was doubt- 
less in a fit of religious zeal that thou hast slain 
him. I will be indulgent, therefore ; render up 
the property of which thou hast robbed him, and 
we will hush the matter up." 

The poor water-carrier called upon all the 
saints to witness Ids innocence ; alas ! not one of 
them appeared ; and if tliey had, the alcalde 
would have disbelieved the whole calendar. The 
water-carrier related the whole story of the dying 
Moor with the straightforward simplicity of truth, 
but it was all in vain. '• Wilt thou persist in 
saying," demanded the judge, " that this JNIoslem 
had neither gold nor jewels, which were the ob- 
ject of thy cupidity ? " 

" As I hope to be saved, your worship," re- 
plied the water-carrier, '' he had nothing but a 
small box of sandal-wood which he bequeathed 
to me in rewai'd for my services." 



THE BOX OF SANDAL-WOOD. 299 

'* A box of sandal- wood ! a box of sandal- 
wood ! " exclaimed the alcalde, his eyes spark- 
ling at the idea of precious jewels. " And where 
is this box ? where have you concealed it ? " 

" An' it please your grace," replied the water- 
carrier, " it is in one of the panniers of my mule, 
and heartily at the service of your worship." 

He had liardly spoken the words, when the 
keen alguazil darted off, and reappeared in an 
instant with the mysterious box of sandal-wood. 
The alcalde opened it with an eager and trem- 
bling hand ; all pressed forward to gaze upon the 
treasure it was expected to contain ; when, to 
their disappointment, nothing appeared within, 
but a parchment scroll, covered with Arabic 
characters, and an end of a waxen taper. 

AVhen there is nothing to be gained by the con- 
viction of a prisoner, justice, even in vSpain, is 
apt to be impartial. The alcalde, having re- 
covered from his disappointment, and found tliat 
there was really no booty in the case, now lis- 
tened dispassionately to the explanation of the 
water-carrier, wliich was corroborated by the tes- 
timony of his wife. Being convinced, therefore, 
of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest ; 
nay moi'e, he permitted him to carry off the 
Moor's legacy, the box of sandal- wood and it9 
contents, as the well-merited reward of his hu- 
manity ; but he retained his donkey in paymenl 
of costs and charges. 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced 
once more to the necessity of being his own 
water-carrier, and trudging up to the well of the 



300 inE HEIR OF KING CHI CO. 

Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon hia 
shoulder. 

As he toiled up the hill in the heat of a sum- 
mer noon, his usual good-humor forsook him. 
" Dog of an alcalde ! " would he cry, '' to rob a 
poor man of the means of his subsistence, of tiie 
best friend he had in the world ! " And then at 
the remembrance of the beloved companion of 
his labors, all the kindness of his nature would 
break forth. " Ah, donkey of my heart ! " would 
he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, and 
wiping the sweat from his brow, — " ah, donkey 
of my heart ! I warrant me thou thinkest of thy 
old master ! I warrant me thou missest the 
water-jars — poor beast." 

To add to his afflictions, his wife received him, 
on his return home, with whimperings and re- 
pinings ; she had clearly the vantage-ground of 
him, having warned him not to commit the egre- 
gious act of hospitality which had brought on 
him all these misfortunes ; and, like a knowing 
woman, she took every occasion to throw her 
superior sagacity in his teeth. If her childi-en 
lacked food, or needed a new garment, she could 
answer with a sneer, " Go to your father — he 
is heir to king Chico of the Alhambra : ask him 
to help you out of the Moor's strong box." 

Was ever poor mortal so soundly punished for 
having done a good action ? The unlucky Pere- 
gil was grieved in flesh and spirit, but still he 
bore meekly with the railings of his spouse. At 
length, one evening, when, after a hot day's toil, 
she taunted him in the usual manner, he lost ail 



I 



THE PARCnMENT SCROLL. 301 

patience. He did not venture to retort upon her, 
but liis eye rested upon the box of sandal-wood, 
whicli lay on a slielf with lid half open, as if 
laughing in mockery at his vexation. Seizing it 
up, he dashed it Avith indignation to the floor 
*' Unlucky was the day that I ever set eyes on 
thee." he cried, '' or sheltered thy master beneath 
my roof ! " 

As the box struck the floor, the lid flew wide 
open, and the parchment scroll rolled forth. 

Peregil sat regarding the scroll for some time 
in moody silence. At length rallying his ideas, 
'• Who knows," thought he, " but this writing 
may be of some importance, as the Moor seems 
to have guarded it with such care ? " Picking 
it up therefore, he put it in his bosom, and the 
next morning, as he was crying water through 
the streets, he stopped at the shop of a Moor, a 
native of Tangiers, who sold trinkets and perfum- 
ery in the Zacatin, and asked him to explain the 
contents. 

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then 
stroked his beard and smiled. " This manu- 
script," said he, " is a form of incantation for the 
recovery of hidden treasui'e that is under the 
power of enchantment. It is said to have such 
virtue that the strongest bolts and bars, nay the 
adamantine rock itself, will yield before it!" 

" Bah ! " cried the little Gallego, " what is all 
that to me ? I am no enchanter, and know nothing 
of buried treasure." So saying, he shouldered 
his water-jar, left the scroll in the hands of the 
Moor, and trudged forward on his daily rounds. 



302 PE'REGIL AND THE MO OH. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself 
about twiliglit at the well of the Alhambra, he 
found a number of gossips assembled at the place, 
and their conversation, as is not unusual at that 
shadowy hour, turned upon old tales and tradi- 
tions of a supernatural nature. Being all poor 
as rats, they dwelt with peculiar fondness upon 
tlie popular theme of enchanted riches left by the 
Moors in various parts of the Alhambra. Above 
all, they concurred in the belief that there were 
great treasures buried deep in the earth under 
the tower of the seven floors. 

These stories made an unusual impression on 
the mind of tlie honest Peregil, and they sank 
deeper and deeper into his thoughts as he re- 
turned alone down tlie darkling avenues. " If, 
after all, there should be treasure hid beneath that 
tower ; and if the scroll I left with the Moor 
should enable me to get at it ! " In the sudden 
ecstasy of the thought he had wellnigh let fall 
his water-jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could 
scarcely get a wink of sleep for the thoughts that 
were bewildering his brain. Bright and early 
he repaired to the shop of the Moor, and told 
him all that was passing in his mind. " You can 
read Arabic," said he ; " suppose we go together 
to the tower, and try the effect of the charm ; if 
it fails, we are no Avorse off than before ; but if 
it succeeds, we will share equally all the treasure 
we may discover." 

" Hold," replied the Moslem ; " this writing is 
not sufficient of itself; it must be rea<l at mid- 



TnE WAX TAPER. 303 

night, by the light of a taper singularly com- 
pounded and pi'epared, the ingredients of whieh 
are not within my reach. AVithout such a taper 
the scroll is of no avail." 

" Say no more ! " cried the little Gallego ; " 1 
have such a taper at hand, and will bring it hero 
in a moment." So saying, he hastened home, 
and soon returned with the end of yellow wax 
taper that he had found in the box of sandal- 
wood. 

The Moor felt it and smelt to it. '• Here are 
rare and costly perfumes," said he, '• combined 
with this yellow wax. This is the kind of taper 
specified in the scrolL While this burns, the 
strongest walls and most secret Ciiverns will re- 
main o{)en. Woe to him, however, who lingers 
within until it be extinguished. lie will reinain 
enchanted with the treasure." 

It was now agreed between them to try the 
charm that very night. At a late hour, there- 
fore, when nothing was Stirling but bats and 
owls, they ascended the woody hill of the 
Alhambra, and appi-oached that awful tower, 
shi'ouded by trees and rendered formidable by so 
many traditionary tales, ^y the light of a lan- 
tern they groped their way through bushes, and 
over i'allen stones, to the door of a vault benealii 
t!ie tower. With fear and trembling they de- 
scended a flight of steps cut into the rock, ll led 
to ah empty cluunber, damp and drear, fi'om wliicii 
another tlight of steps led to a deeper vault. Jn 
this way they descended four several flights, 
leading into as niiiny vaults, one below the oiher 



304 THE INCANTATION. 

but the floor of the fourtli ^Yas solid ; and though, 
according to tradition, there remained three vauhs 
6till below, it was said to be impossible to pene- 
trate further, the residue being shut up by strong 
enchantment. The air of this vault was damp 
and chilly, and had an earthy smell, and the 
light scarce cast forth any rays. They paused 
here for a time, in breathless suspense, until they 
faintly heard the clock of the watch-tower strike 
midnight ; upon this they lit the waxen taper 
which diffused an odor of myrrh and frankincense 
and storax. 

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. 
He haa scarce finished when there Avas a noise as 
of subterraneous thunder. The earth shook, 
and the floor, yawning open, disclosed a flight of 
steps. Trembling with awe, they descended, and 
by the light of the lantern found themselves in 
another vault covered with Arabic inscriptions. 
In the centre stood a great chest, secured with 
seveu bands of steel, at eacli end of which sat 
an enchanted Moor in ai-mor, but motionless as a 
statue, being controlled by the power of the in- 
cantation. Before the chest were several jars 
tilled with gold and silver and precious stones. 
In the largest of these they thrust their arms up 
to the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth hand- 
/uls of broad yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or 
oracelets and ornaments of the same precious 
metal, while occasionally a necklace of Oriental 
pearl would stick to their Angers. Still they 
trembled and bi-eathed short while cramming 
their pockets with the spoils ; and cast many a 



KNCJIANTKD TREASURE. 305 

fearful ghuice at the two enchanted Moors, who 
sat orini and njotionless, glaring upon them with 
unwinking i}yv<>. At length, struck with a suddeu 
panic at some fancied noise, they both rushed up 
the staircase, tumbled over one another into the 
U])per apartment, overturned and extinguished 
tlie waxen taper, and the pavement again <;lose«l 
with a thundering sound. 

Filled with dismay, they did not pause until 
they had groped their way out of the tower, and 
beheld the stars shining through the trees. Then 
seating themselves upon the grass, they divided 
the spoil, determining to content themselves for 
the present with this mere skimming of the jars, 
but to return on some future night and drain 
them to the bottom. To make sure of each 
other's good faith, also, they divided the talismans 
between them, one retaining the scroll and the 
other the taper ; this done, they set oflf vvith light 
hearts and well-lined pockets for Granada. 

As they wended their way down the hill, the 
shrewd Moor whispered a word of counsel in 
the ear of the simple little water-carrier. 

" Friend Peregil," said he, " all this affair must 
be kept a profound secret until we have secured 
the treasure, and conveyed it out of harm's way. 
If a whisper of it gets to the ear of the alcalde, 
we are undone ! " 

" Certainly," replied the Gallego, " nothing 
can be more true." 

" Friend Peregil," said the Moor, " you are a 
discreet man, and I make no doubt can keep a 
secret ; but you have a wife." 

20 



80G A DISCREET HUSBAXD. 

" She shall not know a word of it," replied 
the little water-carrier, sturdily. 

" Enough," said the Moor, "• I depend upon thy 
discretion and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere ; 
but, alas ! what man can keep a secret from his 
wile ? Certainly not such a one as Peregil the 
water-carrier, who was one of the most loving 
and tractable of husbands. On his return home, 
he found his wife moping in a corner. " Mighty 
well," cried she as he entered, " you 've come at 
last, after rambling about until this hour of the 
night. I vv'onder you have not brought home 
another Moor as a house-mate." Then bursting 
into tears, she began to wring her hands and 
smite her breast. " Unhappy woman that I am ! " 
exclaimed she, " what will become of me ? My 
house stripped and plundered by lawyers and al- 
guazils ; my husband a do-no-good, that no longer 
brings home bread to his family, but goes rambling 
about day and night, with inlidel Moors ! O my 
cliildren ! my children ! what will become of us ? 
We shall all have to beg in the streets ! " 

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress 
of his spouse, that he could not help whimper- 
ing also. His heart was as full as his ])ocket, 
and not to be restrained. Thrusting his hand into 
the latter he hauled forth three or four broad gold 
pieces, and slipped them into her bosom. Tiie 
poor woman stared with astonishment, and could 
not understand the meaning of this golden shower. 
Before she could recover her surprise, the little 
Gallego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled 



A DISCREET II OS BAND. 80/ 

It before her, capering with exultation, In's mouth 
distended from ear to ear. 

" Holy Virgin protect us ! " exclaimed the 
wife. " What hast thou been doing, Peregil ? 
sui'ely thou hast not been committing murder and 
robbery ! " 

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor 
woman, than it became a certainty with her. vSlie 
saw a prison and a galloAvs in the distance, and a 
little bandy-legged Gallego hanging pendent from 
it ; and, overcome by the horrors conjured up by 
her imagination, fell into violent hysterics. 

What could the poor man do ? He had no 
other means of pacifying his wife, and dispelling 
the phantoms of her fancy, than by relating the 
whole story of his good fortune. This, however, 
he did not do imtil he had exacted from her the 
most solemn promise to keep it a profound secret 
from every living being. 

To describe her joy would be impossible. She 
flung her arms round the neck of her husband, 
and almost strangled him with her caresses. 
*' Now, wife," exclaimed the little man with hon- 
est exultation, " what say you now to the Moor's 
legacy ? Henceforth never abuse me for helping 
a fellow-creature in distress." 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheep-skin 
mat, and slept as soundly as if on a bed of down. 
Not so his wife ; she emptied the whole contents 
of his pockets upon the mat, and sat counting 
gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying on necklaces 
and earrings, and fancying the figure she should 
one day make when permitted to enjoy her 
nches. 



308 BKGGARS OX nORSEBACK. 

On the following morning tlie honest Gallego 
took a broad golden coin, and repaired with it 
to a jeweller's shop in ths Zacatin to offer it 
for sale, pretending to have fonnd it among the 
ruins of the Alhambra. The jeweller saw that 
It had*an Arabic inscription, and was of the pur- 
est gold ; he offered, however, but a third of its 
value, with which the water-carrier was perfectly 
content. Peregil now bought new clothes for his 
little flock, and all kinds of toys, together with 
ample provisions for a hearty meal, and returning 
to his dwelling, set all his children dancing aroinid 
him, while he capered in the midst, the happiest 
of fathers. 

The wife of the water-carrier kept her prom- 
ise of secrecy with surprising strictness. For a 
whole day and a half she went about with a look 
of mystery and a heart swelling almost to burst- 
ing, yet she held her peace, though surrounded 
by her gossips. It is true, she could not help 
giving herself a few airs, apologized for her 
ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new bas- 
quina all trimmed with gold lace and bugles, and 
A new lace mantilla. She threw out hints of her 
husband's intention of leaving off his trade of 
water-carrying, as it did not altogether agree with 
his health. In flict she thought they should all 
retire to the country for the summer, that the 
children might have the benefit of the mountain 
air, for there was no living in the city in this 
sultry season. 

The neighbors stared at each other, and thought 
the poor woman had lost her wits ; and her airs 



THE SECRET BLOWN. 309 

and graces and elegant pretensions were the 
theme of universal scoffing and merriment among 
her friends, the moment her back was turned. 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she 
indemnified herself at home, and putting a stiing 
of rich Oriental pearls round her neck, Moorish 
bracelets on her arms, and an aigrette of dia- 
monds on her head, sailed backwards and foi'- 
wards in her slattern rags about the room, now 
and then stopping to admire herself in a broken 
mirror. Nay, in the impulse of her simple vanity, 
she could not resist, on one occasion, showing 
herself at the window to enjoy the effect of her 
finery on the passers-by. 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, 
the meddlesome barber, was at this moment sit- 
ting idly in his shop on the opposite side of the 
street, when his ever-watchful eye caught the 
sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he was at 
his loophole reconnoitring the slattern spouse of 
the water-carrier, decorated with the splendor of 
an eastern bride. No sooner had he taken an 
accurate inventory of her ornaments, than he 
posted off with all speed to tiie alcalde. In a 
little while the hungry alguazil was again on the 
scent, and before the day was over the unfortu- 
nate Peregil was once more dragged into the 
presence of the judge. 

" How is this, villain ! " cried the alcalde, in a 
Curious voice. '• You told me that the infidel wlio 
ilied in your house left nothing behind but an 
L'mpty coffer, and now I hear of your wife fiaunt- 
•ng in her rags decked out with pearls and dia- 



SIO THE DEMANDS OF JUSTICE. 

monds. Wretch tlicat tliou art ! prepare to render 
up the spoils of thy miserable victim, and to 
swing on the gallows that is already tired of wait- 
ing for thee." 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, 
and made a full relation of the marvellous man- 
ner in which he had gained his wealth. The al- 
calde, the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber lis- 
tened with greedy ears to this Arabian tale of 
enchanted treasure. The alguazil was dispatched 
to bring the Moor who had assisted in the hican- 
tation. The Moslem entered half frightened out 
of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the 
harpies of the law. When he beheld the water- 
carrier standing with sheepish looks and down- 
cast countenance, he comprehended the whole 
matter. " Miserable animal," said he, as he 
passed near him, " did I not warn thee against 
babbling to thy wife ? " 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with 
that of his colleague ; but the alcalde affected to 
be slow of belief, and threw out menaces of 
imprisonment and rigorous investigation. 

" Softly, good Seiior Alcalde," said the Mussul- 
man, who by this time had recovered his usual 
shrewdness and self-possession. " Let us not mar 
fortune's favors in the scramble for them. No- 
body knows anything of this matter but our- 
selves ; let us keep the secret. There is wealth 
enough in the cave to enrich us all. Promise a 
fair division, and all shall be produced ; refuse, 
and the cjive shall remain forever closed." 

The alcalde consulted apart with tliC alguazil 



\ 



THE DEMANDS OF J US I' ICE. 311 

XhQ latter was an old fox in his profession. 
" Promise anything," said he, •' until you get pos- 
session of the treasure. You rnay then seize 
upon the whole, and if he and his accomplice 
dare to murmur, threaten them with the fagot 
and the stake as infidels and sorcerers." 

Tlie alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing 
his brow and turning to the Moor, " This is a 
strange story," said he, '' and may be true, but 1 
must have ocular proof of it. This very night 
you must repeat the incantation in my presence. 
If there be really such treasure, we will share it 
amicably between us, and say nothing further of 
the matter ; if ye have deceived me, expect no 
mercy at my hands. In the mean time you must 
remain in custody." 

Tiie Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully 
agreed to these conditions, satisfied that the event 
would prove the truth of their words. 

Towards midnight the alcalde sallied forth se- 
cVetly, attended by the alguazil and the meddle- 
some barber, all strongly armed. They conducted 
the Moor and the water-carrier as prisoners, and 
were provided with the stout donkey of the latter 
to bear off the expected treasure. They arrived 
at the tower without being observed, and tying 
the donkey to a fig-tree, descended into the fourth 
vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen 
taper lighted, and the Moor read the form of in- 
cantation. The earth trembled as before, and the 
pavement opened with a thundering sound, dis- 
closing the narrow flight of steps. The alcalde, 



312 THE TREASURE. 

the alguazil, and the barber v/ere struck aghast, 
and could not summon courage to descend. The 
Moor and the water-carrier entered the lower 
vault, and found the two Moors seated as before, 
silent and motionless. They removed two of the 
irreat jars, filled with golden coin and precious 
stones. The wnter-carri^r bore them up one by 
one upon his shoulders, but though a strong-backed 
little man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he 
staggered beneath their weight, and found, when 
slung on each side of his donkey, they ^vere as 
much as the animal could bear. 

" Let us be content for the present," said the 
Moor ; " here is as much treasure as we can carry 
off without being perceived, and enough to make 
us all wealthy to our heart's desire." 

" Is there more treasure i-emaining behind ? '* 
demanded the alcalde. 

" The greatest prize of all," said the Moor, " a 
huge coffer bound Avith bands of steel, and filled 
with pearls and precious stones." 

" Let us have up the coffer by all means," cried 
the grasping alcalde. 

" I will descend for no more," said the Moor, 
doggedly ; " enough is enough for a reasonable 
man — more is superfluous." 

" And I," said the water-carrier, " will bring 
up no further burden to break the back of my 
poor donkey." 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties 
equally vain, the alcalde turned to his two adher- 
ents. *' Aid me," said he, " to bring up the coffer, 
and its contents shall be divided between dp * 



rtiE (jatastrophe. 313 

So saying, he descendetl the steps, followed with 
trembling reluctance by the alguazil and the 
barber. 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fjiirly 
earthed tiian he extinguished the yellow taper ; 
tlie pavement closed Avith its usual crash, and the 
tliree worthies remained buried in its womb. 

He then hastened up the different flight of steps, 
nor stopped until in the open air. The little 
water-carrier followed him as fast as his short 
legs would permit. 

" What hast thou done ? " cried Peregil, as soon 
as he could recover breath. " The alcalde and 
the other two are shut up in the vault." 

" It is the will of Allah ! " said the Moor, de- 
voutly. 

" And will you not release them ? " demanded 
the Gallego. 

" Allah forbid ! " replied the Moor, smoothing 
his beard. " It is written in the book of fete 
that they sliall remain enchanted until some fu- 
ture adventurer arrive to break the charm. Tlie 
will of God be done ! " so saying, he hurled the 
end of the waxen taper far among the gloomy 
thickets of the glen. 

There was now no remedy ; so the Moor and 
the water-carrier proceeded with the richly laden 
donkey toward the city, nor could honest Peregil 
refrain from hugging and kissing his long-eared 
fellow-laborer, thus restored to him from the 
clutches of the law; and, in fact, it is doubtlAil 
svhich gave the simple-hearted little man mos- 



314 A FAIR DIVISION. 

joy at the moment, the gaining of the treasure, or 
the recovery of tlie donkey. 

The two partners in good luck divided their 
spoil amicably and fairly, except that the Moor, 
wlio had a little taste for trinketry, made out to 
get into his heap the most of the pearls and 
frccious stones and other baubles, but ther he 
always gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent 
jewels of massy gold, of five times the size, with 
which the latter was heartily content. They 
took care not to linger within reach of accidents, 
but made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed 
in other countries. The Moor returned to Africa, 
to his native city of Tangiers, and the Gallego, 
with his wife, his children, and his donkey, made 
the best of his way to Portugal. Here, under 
the admonition and tuition of his wife, he be- 
came a personage of some consequence, for she 
made the worthy little man array his long body 
and short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather 
in his hat and a sword by his side, and laying 
aside his familiar appellation of Peregil, assume 
the uiore sonorous title of Don Pedro Gil : his 
progeny grew up a thriving and merry-hearted, 
though short and bandy-legged generation, while 
Senora Gil, befringed, belaced, and betasselled 
from her head to her heels, with glittering rings 
on every finger, became a model of slattern fash- 
\m\ and finery. 

As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they re- 
mained shut up under the. great tower of the 
seven fioors, and there they remain spellbound 



THE ALCALDE AND HIS ADJJ NCTF. 



15 



Hi the present day. Wlieiiever there shall be a 
hick in Spain of pinij)ing barbei'S, sharkinir alirna- 
zils, and corrnpt alcaldes, they may be soufriii 
after ; but if they have to wait until such time 
for their delivei'ance, tliere is danger of their ou- 
chaiitnient enduring until doomsday. 




THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS. 




N an evening's stroll up a narrow glen, 
overshadowed by fig-trees, pomegran- 
ates, and myrtles, which divides the 
lands of the fortress from those of the Gener- 
*alife, I was struck with the romantic appearance 
of a Moorish tower in tlie outer wall of the Al- 
hambra, rising high above the tree-tops, and 
catching the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A 
solitary window at a great height commanded a 
view of the glen ; and as I was regarding it, a 
young female looked out, with her head adorned 
with flowers. She was evidently superior to the 
usual class of people inhabiting the old towers of 
the fortress ; and this sudden and picturesque 
glimpse of her reminded me of the descriptions 
of captive beauties in fairy tales. These fanci- 
ful associations were increased on being informed 
by my attendant Mateo, that this was the Tower 
of the Princesses (La Torre de las Infantas) ; so 
called, from having been, according to tradition, 
the residence of the daughters of the JNIoorish 
kings. I have since visited the tower. It is 
not generally shown to strangers, though well 
worthy of attention, for the interior is equal, for 
beauty of architecture and delicacy of ornament, 
tfl any part of the palace. The elegance of the 



THE LADY OF THE TLWER. 31? 

central hall, with its marble fountain, its lofty 
arches, and ri(;hly fretted dome ; the arabesques 
and stucco-work of the small but well-propor- 
tioned chambers, though injured by time and neg- 
lect, all accord with the story of its being an- 
ciently the abode of royal beauty. 

The little old fairy queen who lives under the 
staircase of the Alhambra, and frequents the 
evening tertulias of Dame Antonia, tells some 
fanciful traditions about three Moorish princesses 
who were once shut up in this tower by their 
father, a tyrant king of Granada, and were only 
permitted to ride out at night about the hills, 
when no one was permitted to come in their way 
under pain of deatli. They still,- according to 
her account, may be seen occasionally when the 
moon is in the full, riding in lonely places along 
the mountain-side, on palfi'eys richly caparisoned 
and sparkling with jewels, but they vanish on 
being spoken to. 

But before I relate anything further respect- 
ing these princesses, the reader may be anxious 
to know something about the fair inhabitant of 
the tower, with her head dressed with flowers, 
who looked oui from the lofty window. She 
proved to be the newly married spouse of the 
worthy adjutant of invalids; who, though well 
stricken in years, had had the courage to take to 
his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian dam- 
sel. May the good old cavalier be happy in his 
choice, and find the Towjer of the Princesses a 
more secure residence for female beauty than it 
seems to have proved in the time of the Mos- 
lems, if we may believe the following legend ' 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTH^'UT. 
PRINCESSES. 




N old times there reigned a Moorish king 
in Granada, whose name was Mohamed, 
^ to which his subjects added the appel- 
lation of El Hajzari, or " The Left-handed." 
Some say he was so called on account of his 
being really more expert with his sinister than 
his dexter hand ; others, because he was prone to 
take everything by the wrong end, or, in other 
words, to mar wherever he meddled. Certain 
it is, either through misfortune or mismanage- 
ment, he was continually in trouble: thrice was 
he driven from his throne, and on one occasion 
barely escaped to Africa with his life, in the 
disguise of a fisherman.* Still he was as brave 
as he was bk-ndering ; and tliough left-handed, 
wielded his cimeter to such purpose, that he 
each time reestablished himself upon his throne 
by dint of hard fighting. Instead, however, of 
learning wisdom from adversity, he hardened his 
neok, and stiffened his left arm in wilfulness. 
Tim evils of a public nature which he thus 

* The reader will recognize the sovereign connected with 
the fortunes of the Abencerrage?. His story appears to be a 
'jttle fictionized in the lege«H. 



TflE CAPTIVE MAID. 3.ly 

broiioht upon himself and his kingdom may be 
learned by those wiio will delve into the Arabian 
annals ot" Granada ; the present legend deals but 
with his domestic policy. 

As this Mohamed was one day riding forth 
with a train of his courtiers, by the foot of the 
mountain of Elvira, he met a band of horsemen 
returning from a foray into the land of the Chris- 
tians. They were conducting a long string of 
mules laden with spoil, and many captives of both 
sexes, among whom the monarch was struck with 
the appearance of a beautiful damsel, richly at- 
tired, who sat weeping on a low palfrey, and 
heeded not the consoling words of a duenna who 
rode beside her. 

The monarch was struck with her beauty, and, 
on inquiring of the captain of the troop, found 
that she was the daughter of the alcayde of a 
frontier fortrc^ss, that had been surprised and 
sacked in the course of the foray. Mohamed 
claimed her as his royal share of the booty, and 
had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. 
There everything was devised to soothe her mel- 
ancholy ; and the monarch, more and more en- 
amored, sought to make her his queen. The Span- 
ish maid at hrst repulsed his addresses : he was 
an infidel ; he was the open foe of her country ; 
what was worse, he was stricken in years ! 

The monarch, finding his assiduities of no avail, 
determined to enlist in his favor the duenna, who 
had been captured with the lady. She was an 
Andalusian by birth, whose Christian name is 
forgotten, being mentioned in Moorish legends by 



320 THE DISCREET KADIGA. 

no other appellation than that of the discreel 
Kadiga ; and discreet in truth she was, as her 
Avliole history makes evident. No sooner had the 
Moorish king held a httle private conversation 
with her, than she saw at once the cogency of 
hia reasoning, and undertook his cause with her 
youiAg mistress. 

" Go to. now ! " cried she ; " what is there in 
all this to weep and wail about ? Is it not bet- 
ter to be mistress of this beautiful palace, with 
all its gardens and fountains, than to be shut up 
within your father's old frontier tower ? As to 
this Mohanied being an infidel, what is that to 
the purpose ? You nifirry him, not his religion ; 
and ii" he is waxing a little old, the sooner will 
you be a widow, and mistress of yourself; at 
any rate, you are in his po^ver, and must either 
be a queen or a slave. When in the hands of a 
robber, it is better to sell one's merchandise for a 
fair price, than to have it taken by main force." 

The arguments of the discreet Kadiga pre- 
vailed. The Spanish lady dried her tears, and 
became the spouse of Mohamed the Left-handed ; 
she even conformed, in appearance, to the faith 
of her royal husband ; and her discreet duenna 
immediately became a zealous convert to the 
Moslem doctrines : it was then the latter received 
the Arabian name of Kadiga, and was permitted to 
rrmain in the confidential employ of her mistress. 

In due process of time the Moorish king was 
made the proud and happy father of tiiree lovely 
daughters, all born at a birth : he could have 
wished tliev had been sons, but consoled himself 



SALODRENA. 321 

with the idea that tlu-ee daughters at a birth 
were pretty well for a man somewhat stricken 
in years, and left-handed ! 

As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he sum- 
moned his astrologers on this happy event. They 
cast the nativities of the three princesses, and 
shook their heads. '' Daughters, king ! " said 
they, "are always precarious property; but these 
will most need your watchfulness when they ar- 
rive at a marriageable age ; at that time gather 
them under your wings, and trust them to no 
other guai'dianship." 

Mohamed the Left-handed was acknowledged 
to be a wise king by his courtiers, and was cer- 
tainly so considered by himself. The prediction 
of the astrologers caused him but little disquiet, 
trusting to his ingenuity to guard his daugl iters 
and outwit the Fates. 

The threefold birth was the last matrimonial 
trophy of the monarch ; his queen bore him no 
more children, and died within a few years, be- 
queathing her infant daughters to his love, and 
to the fidelity of the discreet Kadiga. 

Many years had yet to elapse before the prin- 
cesses would arrive at that period of danger — 
the marriageable age. " It is good, however, to 
be cautious in time," said the shrewd monarch ; 
60 he determined to have them reared in the 
royal castle of Salobrena, This was a sumptu- 
ous palace, incrusted, as it were, in a powerful 
Moorish fortress on the summit of a hill over- 
looking the Mediterranean sea. It was a royal 
retreat, in which tlie Moslem monarchs shut up 
21 



322 THE THREE SISTERS. 

such of their relatives as might endanger their 
safety ; allowing tlieni all kinds of luxuries and 
ajnusenients, in the midst of wiiich they passed 
their lives in voluptuous indolence. 

flere the princesses remained, immured from 
the Avorld, but surrounded by enjoyment, and at- 
tended by female slaves who anticipated their 
wishes. They had delightful gai-dens for their 
recreation, filled with the rarest fruits and flow- 
ers, with aromatic groves and perfumed baths. 
On three sides the castle looked down upon a rich 
valley, enamelled with all kinds of culture, and 
bounded by the lofty Alpuxarra mountains ; on 
the other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea. 

In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate, 
and under a cloudless sky, the three princesses 
grew up into wondrous beauty ; but, though all 
reared alike, they gave early tokens of diversity 
of character. Their names were Zayda, Zorayda, 
and Zorahayda ; and such was their order of 
seniority, tor there had been precisely three min- 
utes between their births. 

Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, 
and took the lead of her sisters in everything, 
as she had done in entering into the world. She 
was curious and inquisitive, and fond of getting 
at the bottom of things. 

Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which 
was the reason, no doubt, of her delighting to ]"e- 
gard her own image in a mirror or a fountain, 
and of her fondness for flowers, and jewels, and 
other tasteful ornaments. 

As to Zoraliiiyda. the younsfcst, she was soi't 



THE THREE SISTERS. 323 

and timid, and extremely sensitive, with a vast 
deal of disposable tenderness, as was evident 
from her number of pet-flowers, and pet-birds, 
and pet-animals, all of whieh she cherished with 
the Ibndest care. Her amusements, too, were of 
a gentle nature, and mixed up with musing and 
reverie. She would sit for hours in a balcony, 
gazing on the sparkling stars of a summer's night, 
or on the sea when lit up by the moon ; and at 
such times, the song of a fisherman, faintly heard 
from the beach, or the notes of a Moorish flute 
from some gliding bark, sutficed to elevate her 
feelings into ecstasy. The least uproar of the ele- 
ments, however, filled her with dismay ; and a clap 
of thunder was enough to throw her into a swoon. 

Years rolled on smoothly and serenely ; the 
discreet Kadiga, to whom the princesses were 
confided, was faithful to her trust, and attended 
them with unremitting care. 

The castle of Salobrena, as has been said, was 
built upon a hill on the sea-coast. One of the 
exterior walls straggled down the profile of the 
hill, until it reached a jutting rock overhanging 
the sea, with a narrow sandy beach at its toot, 
laved by the rippling billows. A small watch- 
tower on this rock had been fitted up as a pavil- 
ion, with latticed windows to admit the sea- 
breeze. Here the princesses used to pass the 
sultry hours of mid-day. 

The curious Zayda was one day seated at a 
window of the pavilion, as her sisters, reclining 
Dn ottomans, were taking the siesta or noontide 
slumber. Her attention was attracted to a gral- 



324 THE TUREE CAVALIERS. 

ley wliicli came coasting along, with measured 
strokes of" the oar. As it (h-ew near, slie ob- 
served that it was filled with armed men. The 
galley anchored at the foot of the tower : a 
number of Moorish soldiers landed on the nar- 
row beach, conducting several Christian prisoners. 
The curious Zayda awakened her sisters, and all 
three peeped cautiously through the close jal- 
ousies of the lattice which screened them from 
sight. Among the prisoners were three Spanish 
cavaliers, richly dressed. They Avere in the 
flower of youth, and of noble presence ; and the 
lofty manner in which they carried themselves, 
though loaded with chains and surrounded with 
enemies, bespoke the grandeur of their souls. 
The princesses gazed with intense and breathless 
interest. Cooped up as they had been in this 
castle among female attendants, seeing nothing 
of the male sex but black slaves, or the rude 
fishermen of the sea-coast, it is not to be won- 
dered at that the appearance of three gaUant 
cavaliers, in the pride of youth and manly beauty, 
should produce some commotion in their bosom. 

" Did ever nobler being tread the earth than 
that cavalier in crimson ? " cried Zayda, the eld- 
est of the sisters. " See how proudly he bears 
himself, as though all around him were his 
slaves!" 

" But notice that one in green ! " exclaimed 
Zorayda. " What gi-ace ! what elegance ! what 
epirit 1 " 

The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she 
secretly gave ureference to the cavalier in blue. 



FEMALE CURIOSITY. 325 

The princesses remained gazint^ until tlie pris- 
oners were out of sight ; then heaving long- 
drawn sighs, they turned round, looked at each 
other for a moment, and sat down, musijig and 
pensive, on their ottomans. 

The discreet Kadiga found them in this situa- 
tion ; they related what they had seen, and even 
the withered heart of the duenna was warmed. 
" Poor youths 1 " exclaimed she, " I '11 warrant 
their captivity makes many a fair and high-born 
lady's heart ache in their native land ! Ah ! 
my children, you have little idea of the life these 
cavaliers lead in their own country. Such prank- 
ling at tournaments ! such devotion to the ladies ! 
such courting and serenading ! " 

The curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused ; 
she was insatiable in her inquiries, and drew from 
the duenna the most animated pictures of the 
scenes of her youthful days and native land. 
The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, and slyly 
regarded herself in a miiTor, when the theme 
turned upon the charms of the Spanish ladies ; 
while Zorahayda suppressed a struggling sigh at 
the mention of moonlight serenades. 

Every day the curious Zayda renew^ed her 
inquiries, and every day the sage duenna re- 
peated her stories, which were listened to with 
profound interest, though with frequent sighs, by 
her gentle auditors. The discreet old woman 
awoke at length to the mischief she might be 
doing. She had been accustomed to think of 
the princesses only as children ; but they had im- 
perceptibly ripened beneath her eye, ai?d now 



B26 THE EMBLEMATICAL OFFERING. 

bloomed before her tliree lovely damsels of the 
marriageable age. It is time, thought the dueriua, 
to give notice to the kiiiof. 

Mohamed the Left-handed was seated one 
morning on a divan in a cool hall of the Alham- 
bra, when a slave arrived from the fortress of 
Salobrena, with a message from the sage Kadiga, 
congratulating him on the anniversary of his 
daughters' birth-day. The slave at the same 
time presented a delicate little basket decorated 
with flowers, within which, on a couch of vine 
and fig-leaves, lay a peach, an apricot, and a nec- 
tarine, with their bloom and down and dewy 
sweetness upon them, and all in the early stage 
of tempting ripeness. Tiie monarch was versed 
in the Oriental language of fruits and flowers, 
and rapidly divined the meaning of this emblem- 
atical offering. 

" So," said he, " the critical period pointed out 
by the astrologers is arrived : my daughters are 
at a marriageable age. What is to be done ? 
They are shut . up from the eyes of men ; they 
are under the eyes of the discreet Kadiga, — all 
veiy good, — but still they are not under my 
own eye. as was prescribed by the astrologers : 
I must gather them under my wing, and trust to 
no other guardianship." 

So saying, he ordered that a tower of the Al- 
hambra should be prepared for their reception, 
and departed at the head of his guards for the 
fortress of Salobrefia, to conduct them home in 
person. 

About three years had elapsed since Mohamed 



THREE MARRIAGEABLE DAUGHTERS. 327 

had beheld his daughters, and lie could scarcely 
credit his eyes at the wonderful change which 
that small space of time had made in their ap- 
pearance. During the interval, they had passed 
that wondrous boundary line in female lite which 
sepai'ates the crude, unformed, and thoughtless 
girl from the blooming, blushing, meditative 
woman. It is like passing from the flat, bleak, 
iminterosting plains of La Mancha to the volup- 
tuous valleys and swelling hills of Andalusia. 

Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty 
demeanor and a penetrating eye. She entered 
with a stately and decided step, and made a pro- 
found reverence to Mohamed, treating liim more 
as her sovereign than her father. Zorayda was 
of the middle height, with an alluring look and 
swimming gait, and a sparkling beauty, height- 
ened by the assistance of the toilette. She ap- 
proached her father witli a smile, kissed his hand, 
and saluted him with several stanzas from a pop- 
ular Arabian poet, with which the monarch was 
delighted. Zorahayda was shy and timid, smallei" 
than her sisters, and witli a beauty of that ten- 
der beseeching kind which looks for fondness and 
protection. She was little fitted to command, 
like her elder sister, or to dazzle like the second, 
but was rather formed to creep to the bosom of 
maidy affection, to nestle within it, and be con- 
tent. She drew near to her father, with a timid 
and almost faltering step, and would have taken 
liis hand to kiss, but on looking up nito his face, 
?jkI seeing it beaming with a paternal smile, the 
tenderness of her nature broke forth, and she 
threw herself upon his neck. 



328 JOURNEY TO GRANADA. 

Mohamed the Left-handed surveyed his bloom- 
ing daughters with mingled pride and perplexity 
for while he exulted in their charms, he be- 
thought himself of the prediction of the astrolo- 
gers. " Three daughters ! three daughters ! " 
muttered he repeatedly to himself, " and all of a 
marriageable age ! Here 's tempting Hesperian 
fruit, that requires a dragon watch ! " 

He prepared for liis retin-n to Granada, by 
sending heralds before him, commanding every 
one to keep out of the road by which he v\-as to 
pass, and that all doors and windows should be 
closed at the approach of the princesses. This 
done, he set forth, escorted by a troop of black 
horsemen of hideous aspect, and clad in shining 
armor. 

The princesses rode beside the king, closely 
veiled, on beautiful white palfreys, with velvet 
caparisons, embroidered with gold, and sweeping 
the ground ; the bits and stirrups were of gold, 
and the. silken bridles adorned with pearls and 
precious stones. The palfreys were covered 
with little silver bells, which made the most musi- 
cal tinkling as they ambled gently along. Woe to 
the unlucky wight, however, who lingered in the 
way when he heard the tinkling of these bells ! 
— the guards were ordered to cut him down 
without mercy. 

The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, 
when it overtook, on the banks of the river Xe- 
nil, a small body of Moorish soldiers with a con- 
voy of prisoners. It was too late for the sol- 
diers to get out of the way, so they threw them- 



THE INTERVIEW. 329 

solves oil their iaees on the earth, ordering their 
captives to do the like. Among the prisoners 
were the three identical cavaliers whom the prin- 
cesses had seen from the pavilion. They either 
did not nnderstand, or were too haughty to obey 
the order, and remained standing and gazing upon 
the cavalcade as it approached. 

The ire of the monarch was kindled at tliis 
flagrant defiance of his orders. Drawino; his cim- 
eter, and pressing forward, he was about to deal 
a left-handed blow that might have been fatal to 
at least one of the gazers, when the princesses 
crowded round him, and imj^lored mercy for the 
prisoners ; even the timid Zorahayda forgot her 
shyness, and became eloquent in their behalf. 
Mohamed paused, with uplifted cimeter, when 
the captain of the guard threw himself at his 
feet. " Let not your highness," said he, " do a 
deed that may cause great scandal throughout 
the kingdom. These are three brave and noble 
Spanish knights, who have been taken in battle, 
fighting like lions ; they are of high birth, and 
may bring great ransoms." — " Enough ! " said 
the king. " I will spare their lives, but punish 
their audacity — let them be taken to the Ver- 
milion Towers, and put to hard labor." 

Mohamed was making one of his usual left- 
handed blunders. In the tumult and agitation of 
this blustering scene, the veils of the three prin- 
cesses had been thrown back, and the radiance of 
Iheir beauty revealed ; and in prolonging the par- 
ley, the king had given that beauty time to have 
Its full efiect. In those days people fell in love 



330 SODDEN LOVE. 

much more suddenly than at present, as all an- 
cient stories make manifest : it is not a matter 
of wonder, therefore, that the hearts of the three 
cavaliers were completely captured ; especially as 
gratitude was added to their admiration; it is a 
little singular, however, though no less certain, 
that each of them Avas enraptured with a several 
beauty. As to the princcjsses, they were more 
than ever struck with the noble demeanor of the 
captives, and cherished in their breasts all that 
they had heard of their valor and noble lineage. 

The cavalcade resumed its march ; the three 
princesses rode pensively along on their tinkling 
palfreys, now and then stealing a glance behind 
in search of the Christian captives, and the lat- 
ter were conducted to their allotted prison in the 
Vermilion Towers. 

The residence pi-ovided for the princesses was 
one of the most dainty that fancy could devise. 
It was in a tower somewhat apart from the 
main palace of the Alhambra, though connected 
with it by the w:dl which encircled the whole 
summit of the hill. On one side it looked into 
the interior of the fortress, and had, at its foot, i> 
small garden filled with the rarest flowers. On 
the other side it overlooked a deep embowered 
ravine separating the grounds of the Alhambra 
from those of the Generalife. The interior of 
the tower was divided into small fairy apartments, 
beautifully ornamented in the light Arabian style, 
Rurrounding a lofty hall, the vaulted roof of whicl.i 
rose almost to the summit of the tower. The 
walls and the ceilings of the hall were adorned 



DROOPING ROSE-BUDS 331 

with arabesque and fretwork, sparkling with gold 
and with briUiant peneilUng. In the centre of 
the marble pavement was an alabaster fountain, 
set round with aromatic shrubs and flowers, and 
throwing up a jet of water that cooled the whole 
edifice and had a lulling sound. Round the hall 
were suspended cages of gold and silver wire, 
containing singing-birds of the finest plumage or 
sweetest note. 

The princesses had been represented as always 
cheerful when in the castle of the Salobrena ; the 
king had expected to see them enraptured with 
the Alhambra. To his sui'prise, however, they 
began to pine, and grow melancholy, and dissat- 
isfied with everything around them. The flow- 
ers yielded them no fragrance, the song of the 
nightingale disturbed their night's rest, and they 
were out of all patience with the alabaster foun- 
tain, with its eternal drop-drop and splash-splash, 
fi'om mornino: till nijjht and from nii^ht till morn- 
ing. 

The king, who was somewhat of a testy, ty- 
rannical disposition, took this at first in high dud- 
geon ; but he reflected that his daughters had 
arrived at an age when the female mind expands 
and its desires augment. " Tliey are no longei 
children," said he to himself, " they are women 
grown, and require suitable objects to interest 
them." He put in requisition, tlierefoi-e, all the 
dressmakers, and the jewellers, and the artificers 
in gold and silver throughout the Zacatin of Gra- 
nada, and the princesses were overwhelmed with 
'•obes of silk, and tissue, and brocade, and cash- 



382 FEMALE CAPRICES. 

mere shawls, and necklaces of pearls and dia- 
monds, and rings, and bracelets, and anklets, and 
all manner of precious things. 

All, however, was of no avail ; the princesses 
continued pale and languid in the midst of their 
finery, and looked like three blighted rose-buds, 
drooping from one stalk. The king was at his 
wits' end. He had in general a laudable conti- 
dence in his own judgment, and never took ad- 
vice. " The whims and caprices of three mar- 
riageable damsels, however, are sufficient," said he, 
" to puzzle the shrewdest head." So for once in 
his life he called in the aid of counsel. 

The person to whom he applied was the expe- 
rienced duenna. 

" Kadiga," said the king, '' I know you to be 
one of the most discreet women in the whole 
world, as well as one of the most trustworthy ; 
for these reasons I have always continued you 
about the persons of my daughters. Fathers 
cannot be too wary in whom they repose such 
confidence ; I now wish you to find out the secret 
malady that is preying upon the princesses, and 
to devise some means of nistoring them to health 
and cheerfulness." 

Kadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact 
she knew more of the malady of the princesses 
than they themselves. Shutting herself up with 
them, however, she endeavored to insinuate herself 
'nto their confidence. 

" My dear children, what is the reason you are 
50 dismal and downcast in so beautiful a place, 
where you have everything that heart can wish ? " 



F.LOaUENCE OF A GUITAR. 333 

The princesses looked vacantly round the 
apartment, and sitz:hed. 

" AVhat more, then, wonld yon have ? Shall 
I get you the wonderful parrot that talks all lan- 
guages, and is the delight of GJranada ? " 

" Odious ! " exclaimed the princess Zayda. " A 
horrid, screaming bird, that chatters words with- 
out ideas : one must be witiiout brains to tolerate 
such a pest." 

" Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of 
Gibraltar, to divert you with his antics ? " 

" A monkey ! ftiugh ! " cried Zorayda ; " the 
ietestable mimic of man. I hate the nauseous 
animal." 

" What say you to the famous black singer 
Casern, from the royal harem, in Morocco ? They 
say he has a voice as fine as a woman's." 

" I am terrified at the sight of these black 
slaves," said the delicate Zorahayda ; " besides, I 
have lost all relish for music." 

" Ah ! my child, you would not say so," re- 
plied the old woman, slyly, " had you heard the 
music I heard last evening, from the three Span- 
ish cavaliers whom we met on our journey. But 
bless me, children ! what is the matter that yoi. 
blush so and are in such a flutter ? " 

" Nothing, nothing, good mother ; pray pre 
cccd." 

" Well ; as I was passing by the Yermilion 
Towers last evening, I saw the three cavaliers 
resting after their day's labor. One was playing 
on the guitar, so gracefully, and the others sang 
by turns ; and they did it in such style, that the 



334 RLOaUKNCE OF A GUITAR. 

very n;uards seemed like statues, or men enchanted. 
Allah forgive me ! I could not help beinnj moved 
at hearing the songs of my native country. And 
then to see three such noble and handsome youths 
in cliains and slavery ! " 

Here the kind-hearted old woman could not 
restrain her tears. 

" Perhaps, mother, you could manage to pro- 
cure us a sight of these cavaliei'S," said Zayda. 

*■ I think," said Zorayda, " a little music would 
be quite reviving." 

The timid Zomhayda said nothing, but threw 
her arms round the neck of Kadiga, 

" Mercy on me ! " exclaimed the discreet old 
woman ; '' what are you talking of, my children ? 
Your father would be tlie death of us all if he 
heard of sucli a thing. To be sure, these cava- 
liers are evidently well-bred, and high-minded 
youths ; but what of that ? they are the enemies 
of our faith, and you must not even think of them 
but with abhorrence." 

There is an admirable intrepidity in the female 
will, particularly when about the marriageable 
age, which is not to be deterred by dangers and 
prohibitions. The princesses hung round their 
old duenna, and coaxed, and entreated, and de- 
clared that a refusal would break their hearts. 

What could she do ? She was certainly the 
most discreet old woman in the whole world, and 
one of the most faithful servants to the king ; but 
9\''as she to see three beautiful princesses break 
their hearts for the mere tinkling of a guitar ? 
Besides, though she had been so long among the 



THE RKNEGALO riUARD. 335 

i\ioor?, and chanp;-efl Iter f'aith in imitation of her 
mistress, like a trusty follower, yet she was a 
Spaniard born, and had tlie lingerings of Chris 
tianity in her heart. So she set about to cor*- 
trive how the wish of the princesses might bo 
gratiiied. ^ 

The Christian captives, confined in the Ver- 
mihon Towei^s, were under the charge of a 
big-whiskered, broad-shouldered renegado, called 
Hussein Baba, who was reputed to have a most 
itching palm. She went to him privately, and 
slipping a broad piece of gold into his hand, 
" Hussein Baba," said she ; " my mistresses tlie 
three princesses, who are shut up in the tower, 
and in sad want of amusement, have heard of the 
musical talents of tlie tln-ee Spanish cavaliers, 
and are desirous of hearing a specimen of their 
skill. I am sure you are too kind-hearted to re- 
fuse them so innocent a gratification." 

" What ! and to have my head set grinning 
over tlie gate of my own tower ! for that would 
be the reward, if the king should discover it." 

" No danger of anything of the kind ; the 
afffiir may be managed so that the wliiin of the 
princesses may be gratified, and their father be 
never the wiser. You know the deep ravine 
outside of the walls which passes immediately 
below the tower. Put the three Christians to 
work there, and at the intervals of their labor, 
let them play and sing, as if for their own rec- 
reation. In this way the princesses will be able 
to hear them from the windows of the tower, and 
you may be sure of their paying well for your 
'compliance." 



d 3 6 LOVE-DI TTIES. 

As the good old woman concluded her har- 
angue, she kindly pressed the rough hand of the 
renegado, and left within it another piece of gold. 

Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next 
day the three cavaliers were put to Avork in the 
ravine. During i]^e noontide heat, wdien their 
fellow-laborers were sleeping in the shade, and 
the guard nodding drowsily at his post, they 
seated themselves among the herbage at the foot 
of the tower, and sang a Spanish roundelay to 
the accompaniment of the guitar. 

The glen was deep, the tower was high, but 
their voices rose distinctly in the stillness of the 
summer noon. The princesses listened from their 
balcony, they iiad been taught the Spanish lan- 
guage by tlieir duenna, and were moved by the 
tenderness of the song. The discreet Kadiga, on 
the contrary, was teri'ibly shocked. " AHah pre- 
serve us!" cried slie, " they are singing a love- 
ditty, addressed to yourselves. Did ever mortal 
hear of such audacity ? 1 will run to the slave- 
master, and liave them soundly bastinadoed." 

" What ! bastinado such g^tllant cavaliers, and 
for singing so charmingly ! " The three beauti- 
ful princesses were fdled with horror at the idea. 
"With all her virtuous indignation, the good old 
woman was of a placable nature, and easily ap- 
peased. Besides, the music seemed to have a 
beneticial effect upon her young mistresses. A 
rosy bloom had already come to their cheeks, 
and their eyes began to sparkle. She made no 
further objection, thei'efore, to the amorous ditty 
of th<', cavaliers. 



THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 337 

When it was finished, the princesses remained 
silent loi- a time : at length Zorayda took up a 
hite, and witli a sweet, though taint and trem- 
bling voice, warbled a little Arabian air, tlio 
burden of which was, •' The rose is concealed 
among her leaves, but she listens with delight to 
the song of the nightingale." 

From this time forward the cavaliers worked 
almost daily in the ravine. The considerate 
Hussein Baba became more and more indulgent, 
and daily more prone to sleep at his post. For 
some time a vague intercourse was kept up by 
popular songs and romances, which in some 
measure responded to each other, and breathed 
the feelings of the parties. By degrees the 
princesses showed themselves at the balcony, 
when they could do so without being perceived 
by the guards. They conversed with the cava- 
liers also, by means of flowers, with the symbol- 
ical language of which they were mutually ac- 
quainted ; the difficulties of their intercourse 
added to its charms, and strengthened the pas- 
sion they had so singularly conceived ; for love 
delights to struggle with difficulties, and thrives 
the most hardily on the scantiest soil. 

Tlie change effected in the looks and spirits of 
the princesses by this secret intercourse, surprised 
and gratified the left-handed king ; but no one 
was more elated than the discreet Kadiga, who 
considered it all owino^ to her able mana2:ement. 

At length there was an interruption in this 
telegraphic correspondence : for several days the 
cavaliers ceased to make their appearance in the 
22 



838 CO LP roMFonT. 

f>len. The princesses looked ont from the tov/er 
ill vain. In vain tliej stretched their swan-like 
necks from the balcony; in vain they sang like 
captive nightingales in their cage : notliing was 
to be seen of their Christian lovers ; not a note 
I'csponded from the groves. The discreet Kadiga 
sallied forth in quest of intelligence, and soon 
returned with a face full of trouble. " Ah, my 
children ! " cried she, " I saw what all this would 
come to, but you would have your way ; you 
may now hang up your lut6s on the willows. 
The Spanish cavaliers are ransomed by their 
families ; they are down in Granada, and prepar- 
ing to return to their native country." 

The three beautiful princesses were in despair 
at the tidings. Zayda was indignant at the 
slight put upon them, in thus being deserted 
without a parting word. Zorayda wrung her 
hands and cried, and looked in the glass, and 
wiped away her tears, and cried afresh. The 
gentle Zorahayda leatied over the balcony and 
wept in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop 
among the flowers of the bank where the faith- 
less cavaliers had so often been seated. 

The discreet Kadiga did all in her power to 
soothe their sorrow. "Take comfort, my chil- 
dren,'' said she, " this is nothing when you are 
used to it. This is the way of the world. 
Ah ! when you are as old as I am, you will 
know how to value these men. I '11 warrant th(^se 
cavaliers have their loves among the Spanish 
beauties of Cordova and Seville, and will soon 
be serenading under their balcotiies, and tlnnking 



THE AFFLICTED DUENNA. 339 

no moro of tlie Moorisli beauties in the Alham- 
bra. Take comfort, therefore, mv children, and 
drive them from vour hearts." 

The comfortins: words of the discreet Kadijra 
only redoubled the distress of the three prin- 
cesses, and for two days they continued incon- 
solable. On the morning of the third the good 
old woman entered their apartment, all ruffling 
with indignation. 

" Who would have believed such insolence in 
mortal man ! " exclaimed she, as soon as she 
could find Avords to express herself; "but I am 
rightly served for having connived at this decep- 
tion of your worthy father. Never talk more to 
me of your Spanish cavaliers." 

'' Wliy, what has happenecP, good Kadiga ? " 
exclaimed the princesses in breathless anxiety. 

'' What has happened ? — treason has hap- 
pened ! or, whjit is almost as bad, treason has 
been proposed ; and to me, the most faithful of 
subjects, the trustiest of duennas ! Yes, my 
children, the Spanish cavaliers have dared to 
tamper with me, that I should persuade you 
to tly with them to Cordova, and become theii 
wives ! " 

Here the excellent old woman covered her 
face with her hands, and gave way to a violent 
burst of grief and indignation. The three beau- 
tiful princesses turned pale and red, pale and red, 
and trembled, and looked down, and cast shy 
looks at each other, but said nothing. Mean- 
time the old woman sat rocking backward and 
forvvard in violent agitation, and now and theo 



340 CONSOLA noN. 

breaking out into exclamations, — " That ever I 
Ehould live to be so insulted ! — I, the most 
faithful of servants ! " 

At length the eldest princess, who had most 
spirit and always took the lead, approached her, 
and laying her hand upon her shoulder, " Well, 
motiier," said she, " supposing we were willing 
to fly with these Christian cavaliers — is such a 
thing possible ? " 

The good old woman paused suddenly in her 
grief, and looking up, " Possible," echoed she ; " to 
be sure it is possible. Have not the cavaliers 
already bribed Hussein Baba, the renegado cap- 
tain of the guard, and arranged the whole plan ? 
But, then, to think of deceiving your father ! 
your flxther, who 'has placed such confidence in 
me ! " Here the worthy woman gave way to a 
fresh burst of grief, and began again to rock 
backward and forward, and to wring her hands. 

" But our father has never placed any conti- 
dence in us," said the eldest princess, " but has 
trusted to bolts and bars, and treated us as cap- 
tives." 

'' Why, that is true enough,*' replied the old 
woman, again pausing in her grief; he has 
indeed treated you most unreasonably, keeping 
you shut up here, to waste your bloom in a 
moping old tower, like roses left to wither in a 
flower-jar. But, then, to fly from your native 
land ! " 

" And is not the land we fly to the native 
land of our mother, where we shall live in 
freedom ? And shall we not each have a youth- 



THE ARRANGL UEXT. 341 

fill husband in exchange for a severe old 
father ? " 

" Why, that again is all very true ; and your 
father, I must confess, is rather tyrannical ; but 
what then," relapsing into her grief, " would you 
leave me behind to bear the brunt of his ven- 
geance ? " 

" By no means, my good Kadiga ; cannot you 
fly with us ? " 

" Very true, my child ; and, to tell the truth, 
when I talked the matter over with Hussein 
Baba, he firomised to take care of me, if I would 
accompany you in your flight ; but then, bethink 
you, my cliildren, are you willing, to renounce 
the faith of your flither ? " 

" The Christian faith was the original faith of 
our mother," said the eldest princess ; " I am 
ready to embrace it, and so, I am sure, are my 
sisters." 

'*• Right again," exclaimed the old woman, 
briglitening up ; " it was the original faith of 
your motlier, and bitterly did she lament, on her 
death-bed, that she had renounced it. I prom- 
ised her then to take care of your souls, and I 
rejoice to see that they are now in a fair way to 
be saved. Yes, my children, 1 too was born a 
Christian, and have remained a Christian in my 
heart, and am resolved to return to the faith. I 
have talked on the subject with Hussein Baba, 
who is a Spaniard by birth, and comes from a 
{)lace not far from my native town. He is 
equally anxious to see his own country, and to 
be reconciled to the Church ; and the cavaliera 



542 THE ARRANGEMENT. 

have promised that, if we are disposed to be- 
come man and wife, on returning to our native 
land, they will provide for us handsomely." 

In a word, it appeared that this extremely 
discreet and provident old woman had consulted 
with the cavaliers and the renegado, and had 
concerted the whole plan of escape. The eldest 
princess Mnmiediately assented to it ; and her 
example, as usual, determined the conduct of her 
sisters. It is true the youngest hesitated, tor 
e^he was gentle and timid of soul, and there was 
.1 struggle in her bosom between fiiial feeling 
and youthful passion : the latter, however, as 
usual, gained the victory, and with silent tears 
and stifled sighs she prepared herself for flight. 

The rugged hill on which the Alhambra is 
built was, in old times, perforated with subterra- 
nean passages, cut through the rock, and leading 
from the fortress to various parts of the city, 
and to distant sally-ports on the banks of the 
Darro and the Xenil. They had been con- 
structed at different times by the Moorish kings, 
as means of escape from sudden insurrections, or 
of secretly issuing forth on private enterprises. 
Many of them are now entirely lost, while 
others remain, partly choked wath rubbish, and 
partly w^alled up, — monuments of the jealous pre- 
cautions and warlike stratagems of the Moorish 
government. By one of these passages Hussein 
Baba had undertaken to conduct the princesses 
to a sally-port beyond the walls of the city, 
where the cavaliers were to be ready with fleet 
steeds, to bear the whole party over the borders. 



THE LADDER OF ROPES. 313 

The appointed night arrived; the tower of tlie 
princesses had been locked up as usual, and tlie 
Allianibra Avas buried in deep sleep. Towards 
midnight the discreet Kadiga listened from the 
balcony of a window that looked into the gar- 
den, riussein Baba, the renegado, was already 
below, and gave tlie appointed signal. The du 
enna fastened the end of a ladder of ropes to 
the balcony, lowered it into the garden and de- 
scended. The two eldest princesses ibllowed 
her with beating hearts ; but when it came to the 
turn of the youngest princess, Zorahayda, she 
hesitated and trembled. Several times she ven- 
tured a delicate little foot upon the ladder, and as 
often drew it back, while lier poor little heart 
fluttered more and more the longer she delayed. 
She cast a wistfid look back into the silken cham- 
ber ; she had lived in it, to be sure, like a bird 
in a cage ; but within it she was secure ; who 
could tell what dangers might beset her, should 
she H utter forth into the wide world ! Now she 
bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and 
her little foot was instantly upon the ladder ; and 
anon she thought of her father, and shrank back. 
Mxxt fruitless is tlie attempt to describe the con- 
flict in the bosom of one so young and tender 
and loving, but so timid and so ignorant of the 
world. 

In vain her sisters implored, the duenna scolded, 
and the renegado blasphemed beneath the balcony ; 
die gentle little Moorish maid stood doubting and 
wavering on the verge of elopement ; tempted by 
ihe sweetness of the sin, but terrified at its perils. 



844 TUB FLIGHT. 

Every moment increased the danger of discov- 
ery. A distant tramp was heard. " The patrols 
are walking their rounds," cried the renegado ; 
" if we linger, we perish. Princess, descend in- 
stantly, or we leave you." 

Zorahayda was for a moment in fearfid agita- 
tion ; then loosening the ladder of ropes, with 
desperate resolution she flung it from the bal- 
cony. 

" It is decided ! " cried she ; " flight is now 
out of my power ! Allah guide and bless ye, my 
dear sisters ! " 

The two eldest princesses were shocked at the 
thoughts of leaving her behind, and would fain 
have lingered, but the patrol was advancing ; the 
renegado was furious, and they were hurried 
away to the subterraneous passage. They groped 
their way through a fearful labyrinth, cut through 
the heart of the mountain, and succeeded in 
reaching, undiscovered, an iron gate that opened 
outside of the walls. The Spanish cavaliers 
were waiting to receive them, disguised as Moor- 
ish soldiers of the guard, commanded by the ren- 
egado. 

The lover of Zorahayda was frantic when he 
learned that she had refused to leave the tower ; 
but there was no time to waste in lamentations. 
The two princesses were placed behind their 
lovers, the discreet Kadiga mounted behind the 
'•enegado, and tliey all set off at a round pace in 
the direction of the Pass of Lope, which leads 
through the mountains towards Cordova. 

They had not proceeded far when they heard 



THE FLIGHT. 345 

the noise of drums and trumpets from the battle* 
ments of the Alhambra. 

" Our flight is discovered ! " said the renegade 

" We have fleet steeds, the night is dark, and 
we may distance all pursuit," replied the cava- 
liers. 

They put spurs to their horses, and scoured 
across the Vega. They attained the foot of the 
mountain of Elvira, which stretches like a prom- 
ontory into tlie plain. The renegado paused and 
listened. " As yet," said he, " thei'e is no "one on 
our traces, we shall make good our escape to the 
mountains." AVliile he spoke, a light bhiztJ sprang 
up on the top of the watch-tower of the Alham- 
bra. 

" Confusion ! " cried the renegado, " that bale 
fire will put all the guards of the passes on the 
alert. Away ! away ! Spur like mad, — there 
is no time to be lost." 

Away they dashed — the clattering of their 
horses' hoofs echoed from rock to rock, as they 
swept along the road that skirts the rocky moun- 
tain of Elvira. As they galloped on, the bale 
fire of the Alhambra was answered in every di- 
rection ; liglit after light blazed on the Atalayas, 
or watch-towers of the mountains. 

" P^orward ! forward ! " cried the renegedo, 
with many an oath, "to the bridge, — to the 
bridge, before the alarm has reached there ! " 

They doubled the promontory of the moun- 
hiins, and arrived in si";ht of the famous Bridoe 
of Pinos, that crosses a rushing stream often 
iyed with Christian and Moslem blood. To their 



346 TUE FATE OF KADIGA. 

eoni'u^ioii, the tower on tlie l)ridge blazed with 
lights and glittered with armed men. The rene- 
gade gulled up liis steed, rose in his stirrups and 
looked about him for a moment ; then beckonin» 
to the cavaliers, he struck off from the road, 
skirted the river for some distance, and dashed 
into its waters. The cavaliers called upon the 
princesses to cling to them, and did the same. 
They were borne for some distance down thfe 
rapid current, the surges roared round them, but 
the beautiful princesses clung to their Christian 
knights, and never uttered a complaint. The 
cavaliers attained the opposite bank in safety, 
and were conducted by the renegade, by rude and 
unfrequented paths and wild barrancos, through 
the heart of the mountains, so as to avoid all the 
regular passes. In a word, they succeeded in 
reaching the ancient city of Cordova ; where their 
restoration to their country and friends Avas cele- 
brated with great rejoicings, for they were of the 
noblest families. The beautiful princesses were 
forthwith received into the bosom of the Church, 
and, alter being in ail due form made regular 
Christians, were rendered happy wives. 

In our huiry to make good the escape of the 
princesses across the river, and up the mountains, 
we forgot to mention the fate of the discreet Ka- 
diga. She had clung like a cat to Hussein Baba 
ill the scamper across the Vega, screaming at 
eveiy bound, and drawing many an oath from 
the whiskered renegado ; but when he prepared 
to plunge his steed into the river, her terror knew 
J© bounds. " Grasp me not so tightly," cried 



rilE FATE KADIGA. 347 

EIu??eiii Buba ; " liolil on by my belt and fear 
nothing." She held firndy with botii hands by 
the leathern belt that girded the broad-baeked 
reneirado ; but when lie halted Avith the eavalieri^ 
to take breath on the nionntain summit, the du 
enna v/as no longer to be seen. 

" What has become of Kadiga ? " cried the 
pi-incesses in alarm. 

" Allah alone knows ! " replied the renegado \ 
•' my belt came loose when in the midst of the 
river, and Kadiga was swept Avith it down the 
stream. The Avill of Allah be done ! but it was 
an embroidered belt, and of great price." 

There was no time to waste in idle regrets ; 
yet bitterly did the pi-incesses bewail the loss of 
their discreet counsellor. That excellent old 
woman, however, did not lose more thanlialf of 
her nine lives in the water : a fisherman, who was 
drawing his nets some distance down the stream, 
brought her to land, a,nd was not a little aston- 
ished at his miraculous drauglit. What further 
became of the discreet Kadiga, the legend does 
not mention ; certain it is tiiat slie evinced her 
discretion in never venturing within the reach of 
Mohamed the Left-handed. 

Almost as little is known of the conduct of 
that sagacious monarch when he discovered the 
escape of his daughters, and the deceit practised 
upon him by the most faithful of servants. It 
wa> the only instance in which he had called in 
liie aid of counsel, and he was never afterwards 
known to be guihy of a similar weakness. He 
♦ook <ji:ood care, how(iver, to jiuartl his remaining 



348 IMPROBABLE TRUTHS. 

daughter, who had no disposition to elope ; it is 
thought, indeed, that she secretly repented hav- 
ing remained behind : now and then she was 
seen leaning on tlie battlements of the tower, and 
looking mournf Lilly towards the mountains in the 
direction of Cordova, and sometimes the notes 
of her lute were heard accompanying plaintive 
ditties, in which she was said to lament the loss 
of her sisters and her lover, and to bewail her 
solitary life. She died young, and, according to 
popular rumor, was buried in a vault beneath the 
tower, and her untimely fate has given rise to 
more than one traditionary fable. 

The following legend, which seems in some 
measure to spring out of the foregoing story, is 
too clo^'ly connected with high historic names to 
be entirely doidjted. The Count's daughter, and 
some of her young companions, to whom it was 
read in one of the evening tertullias, thought cer- 
tain parts of it had much appearance of reality ; 
and Dolores, who was much more versed than 
they in the improbable truths of the Alhambra, 
believed every word of it. 




LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE 
ALHAMBRA. 




OR some time after tlie surrender of Gra- 
nada by the Moors, that delightful city 
was a frequent and favorite residence of 
the Spanish sovereigns, until they were frightened 
away by successive shocks of earthquakes, which 
toppled down various houses, and made the old 
Moslem towers rock to their foundation. 

Many, many years then rolled away, during 
which Granada was rarely honored by a royal 
guest. Tlie palaces of the nobility remained 
silent and shut up ; and the Alhambra, like a 
slighted beauty, sat in mournful desolation among 
her neglected gardens. The tower of the Infan- 
tas, once the residence of the three beautiful 
Moorish princesses, partook of the general deso 
lation ; the spider spun her web athwart the 
gilded vault, and bats and owls nestled in those 
chambers that had been graced by the presence 
of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda. The neglect 
of lliis tower may have been partly owing to some 
superstitious notions of the neighbors. It was ru- 
mored that the spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, 
who had perished in that tower, was often seen by 
aioonlight seated beside the fountain in the hall, 



350 J COURT PAGE. 

or moaning about the battlements, and that the 
notes of her silver lute aa'cuIcI be heard at mid- 
night by wayfarers passing along the glen. 

At length the city of Granada was once more 
welcomed by the royal presence. All the world 
knows that Philip V. was the first Bourbon that 
swayed the Spanish sceptre. All the world 
knows that he married, in second nuptials, Eliza- 
betta or Isabella (for they are tlie same), the 
beautiful princess of Parma ; and all the world 
knows that by this chain of contingencies a French 
prince and an Italian princess were seated to- 
gether on the Spanish throne. For a visit of this 
illustrious pair, the Alhambra was repaired and 
fitted up with all possible expedition. The ar- 
rival of the court changed the whole aspect of the 
lately deserted palace. The clangor of drum 
and trumpet, the tramp of steed about the ave- 
nues and outer court, the glitter of arms and 
display of baimers about barbican and battle- 
ment, recalled the ancient and warlike glories 
of the fortress. A softer spirit, however, reigned 
within the royal palace. There was the rustling 
of robes and the cautious tread and murmuring 
voice of reverential courtiers about the ante- 
chambers ; a loitering of pages and maids of 
honor about the gardens, and the sound of music 
stealing from open casements. 

Among those who attended in the train of the 
monarclis was a favorite page of the queen, named 
lluyz de Alarcon. To say that he was a favor- 
ite page of the queen was at once to speak his 
eulogium, for every one in the suite of the stately 



THE TRUANT FALCON. 351 

Elizabctta Avns cl^osen for grace, aiul beauty, and 
accotnplislinients. He was just turned of eigh- 
teen, liglit and litlie of form, and graceful as a 
young Antinous. To the queen he was all def- 
ei'ence and respect, yet lie was at heart a roguish 
*=tripling, petted and spoiled by the ladies about 
the court, and experienced in the ways of women 
iiir beyond his years. 

This loitering page was one morning rambling 
about the groves of tlie Generalife, which over- 
look the grounds of the Alhambra. He had 
taken with him for his amusement a favorite ger- 
falcon of the queen. In the course of his rambles, 
seeing a bird rising fi'om a thicket, he unhooded 
tlie hawk and let him Hy. The falcon towered 
high in the air, made a swoop at his quarry, but 
missing it, soared away, regardless of the calls of 
the page. The latter followed the truant bird 
with his eye, in its capricious ilight, until he saw 
it alight upon the battlements of a remote and 
lonely tower, in the outer wall of the Alhambra, 
built on the edge of a ravine that separated the 
royal ibrtress trom the grounds of the Generalife. 
It was in fact the '' Tower of the Princesses." 

The page descended into the ravine and ap- 
proached the tower, but it had no enti-ance from 
the glen, and its lofty height rendered any attempt 
to scale it fi-uitless. Seeking one of the gates 
of the fortress, therefore, he made a wide circuit 
to that side of the tower facing within the walls. 

A small garden, enclosed by a trellis-work of 
reeds overhung with myrtle, lay before the tower 
Upening a wicket, the page passed between beda 



352 THE FAIRY OF THE TOWER. 

of flowers and tliickets of roses to the door. It 
was closed and bolted. A crevice in the door 
gave him a peep into the interior. There was a 
small Moorish hall with fretted walls, light mar- 
ble coluiims, and an alabaster fountain surrounded 
with flowers. In the centre hung a gilt cage 
containing a singing-bird ; beneath it, on a chair, 
lay a tortoise-shell cat among reels of silk and 
other articles of female labor, and a guitar deco- 
rated witli ribbons leaned against the fountain. 

Ruyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces 
of female taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as 
he had supposed, deserted tower. They reminded 
him of the tales of enchanted halls current in the 
Alhambra ; and the tortoise-shell cat might be 
some spell-bound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door. A beautiful 
face peeped out from a little window above, but 
was instantly withdrawn. He waited, expecting 
that the door would be opened, but he waited in 
vain ; no footstep was to be heard within — all 
was silent. Had his senses deceived him, or was 
this beautiful apparition the fairy of the tower '>' 
He knocked again, and more loudly. After a 
little while the beaming face once more peeped 
forth ; it Avas that of a blooming damsel of fifteen. 

The page immediately doffed his plumed bon- 
net, and entreated in the most courteous accents 
to be permitted to ascend the tower in pursuit of 
his falcon. 

" I dare not open the door, Seiior," replied the 
litth damsel, blushing, " my aunt has forbiddeo 
it." 



THE CAPITULATION. 353 

" r do beseech you, fair maid — it is the favor- 
ite falcon of the queen : I dare not return to the 
palace without it." 

"Are you then one of the cavaliers of the 
court ? " 

" I am, fliir maid ; but I shall lose the queen's 
favor and my place, if I lose this hawk." 

" Santa IMaria ! It is against you cavaliers of 
tlie court my aunt has charged me especially to 
bar the door." 

" Against wncked cavaliers doubtless, but I am 
none of these, but a simple, harmless page, who 
will be ruined and undone if you deny me this 
small request." 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by 
the distress of the page. It was a thousand 
pities he should be ruined for the want of so tri- 
fling a boon. Surely too he could not be one of 
those dangerous beings whom her aunt had de- 
scribed as a species of cannibal, ever on the prowl 
to make prey of thoughtless damsels ; he w^as 
gentle and modest, and stood so entreatingly with 
cap in hand, and looked so charming. 

The sly page saw that the garrison began 
to waver, and redoubled his entreaties in such 
moving terms that it was not in the nature of 
mortal maiden to deny him ; so the blushing little 
warden of the tower descended, and opened the 
door with a trembling hand, and if the page had 
been charmed by a mere glimpse of her counte- 
nance from the window, he was ravished by the 
full-length portrait now revealed to him. 

Her Andalusian bodice and trim basquiiia set 
2;i 



354 TFIE WAY AT COURT. 

off the roiiixl but delicate symineti-y of lier form, 
which was as yet scarce verging into womanliood. 
Her glossy hair was pai'ted on her forehead with 
scrupulous exactness, and decorated with a fresh 
lilncked rose, according to the universal custom 
of the country. It is true her complexion was 
tinged by tiie ardor of a southern sun, but il 
scn-ved to give richness to tlie mantling bloom of 
lier cheek, and to heighen the lustre of her melt- 
ing eyes. 

Ruyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single 
glance, for it became him not to tarry ; he 
merely murmured his acknowledgments, and then 
bounded lightly up the spiral staircase in que.st 
of his falcon. 

He soon returned with the truant bird upon 
his fist. The damsel, in the mean time, had seated 
herself by the fountain in the hall, and was wind- 
ing silk ; but in her agitation she let fall the reel 
upon the pavement. The page sprang and picked 
it up, then dropping gracefully on one knee, pre- 
sented it to her ; but, seizing the hand extended 
to receive it, imprinted on it a kiss more fervent 
and devout than he had ever imprinted on the 
fair hand of his sovereign. 

"" Ave Maria, Senor ! " exclaimed the damsel, 
blushing still deeper with confusion and surprise, 
for never before had she received such a saluta- 
tion. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, 
assuring her it was the way at court of express- 
ing the most p-ofound liomage and respect. 

Her anger, if anger she felt, was easily pacified, 



TH?: ENBARRASSMENT. 355 

but her agitation and embarrassment continued, 
and she sat blushing deeper and deeper, with her 
eyes cast down upon her work, entangling the 
silk which she attempted to wind. 

The cunning page saw the confusion in the op- 
posite camp, and would fain hflve profited by it, 
but the fine speeches he would have uttered died 
upon his lips ; his attempts at gallantry were 
awkward and ineffectual ; and to his surprise, the 
adi-oit page, who had figured with such grace 
and effrontery among the most knowing and ex- 
perienced ladies of tlie court, found himself aAved 
and abashed in the presence of a simple damsel 
of fifteen. 

In fact, the artless maiden, in her own modesty 
and innocence, had guardians more etfectual than 
the bolts and bars prescribed by her vigilant 
aunt. Still, where is the female bosom proof 
against the first whisperings of love ? The little 
damsel, wnth all her artlessness, instinctively com- 
prehended all that the faltering tongue of the 
page failed to express, and her heart was fluttered 
at beholding, for the first time, a lover at her feet 
— and such a lover ! 

The diffidence of the page, though genuine, 
was short-lived, and he was recovering his usual 
ease and confidence, when a shrill voice was heard 
at a distance. 

" My aunt is returning from mass ! " cried the 
damsel in afl^right : " I pray you, Seiior, depart." 

" Not until you grant me that rose from your 
Uair as a remembrance." 

She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven 



356 TflE VIGILANT AUNT. 

locks. " Take it," cried she, agitated and blush- ~ 
ing, " but pray begone." 

The page took the rose, and at the same time 
covered with kisses the fair hand that gave it. 
Then, phicing the flower in his bonnet, and tak- 
ing the falcon upon his fist, he bounded off tln-ough 
the garden, bearing away with him the heart of 
the gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, 
she remarked the agitation of her niece, and an 
air of confusion in the hall ; but a word of ex- 
planation sufficed. " A ger-falcon had pursued his 
prey into the hall." 

" Mercy on us ! to think of a falcon flying into 
the tower. Did ever one hear of so saucy a 
hawk? Why, the ^ery bird in the cage is not 
safe ! " 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most 
wary of ancient spinsters. She had a becoming 
terror and distrust of what she denominated " the 
opposite sex," which had gradually increased 
through a long life of celibacy. Not that the 
good lady had ever suffered from their wiles, na- 
'ture having set up a safeguard in her face that 
forbade all trespass upon her premises ; but ladies 
who have least cause to fear for themselves are 
most ready to keep a watch over their more 
t(Miipting neighbors. 

The niece was the orphan of an officer wno 
had fallen in the Avars. She had been educated 
in a convent, and hjid recently been transferi*ed 
from her sacred asylum to the immediate guar- 
dianship of her aunt, under whose overshadowing 



MOONLIGHT SERENADEti. 357 

care she vegetated in obscurity, like an opening 
rose blooming beneath a brier. Nor indeed is 
this comparison entirely accidental ; for, to tell 
tlie truth, her fresh and dawning beauty had 
caught the public eye, even in her seclusion, and, 
with that poetical turn common to the people of 
Andalusia, the peasantry of the neighborhood had 
given her the appellation of " the Rose of the 
Alhambra." 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful 
watch over her tempting little nieoe as long as 
the court continued at Granada, and flattered her- 
self that her vigilance had been successful. It 
is true the good lady was now and then discom- 
posed by the tinkling of guitars and chanting of 
love-ditties from the moonlit groves beneath the 
tower; but she would exhort her niece to shut 
her ears against such idle minstrelsy, assuring 
her that it was one of the arts of the opposite 
sex, by which simple maids were often lured to 
their undoing. Alas ! what chance with a sim- 
ple maid has a dry lecture against a moonlight 
serenade ? 

At length king Philip cut short his sojourn at 
Granada, and suddenly departed witn all his train. 
The vigilant Fredegonda watched the royal pag- 
eant as it issued forth from the Gate of Justice, 
and descended the great avenue leading to the 
city. When the last banner disappeared from her 
sight, she returned exulting to her tower, for all 
her cares were over. To her surprise, a light 
Arabian steed pawed the ground at the wicket- 
gate of the garden ; — to her horror she saw 



358 THE FAREWELL. 

through the thickets of roses a youth in gayly 
embroidered dress, at the feet of her niece. At 
the sound of her footsteps he gave a tender adieu, 
bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and 
myrtles, sprang upon his horse, and was out of 
Bight in an instant. 

The tender Jacinta, in the agony of her grief, 
lost all thought of her aunt's displeasure. Throw- 
ing herself into her arms, she broke forth into 
sobs and tears. 

" Ay de mi ! " cried she ; " he 's gone ! — he 's 
gone ! — he 's gone ! and I shall never see huii 
more ! " 

" Gone ! — who is gone ? — what youth is that 
I saw at your feet ? " 

" A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me 
flirewell." 

" A queen's page, child ! " echoed the vigilant 
Fredegonda, fjiintly, " and when did you become 
acquainted with the queen's page ? " 

" The morning that the ger-falcon came into 
the tower. It was the queen's ger-Mcon, and he 
came in pursuit of it." 

" Ah silly, silly girl ! know that there are no 
ger-falcons half so dangerous as these young 
prankling pages, and it is precisely such simple 
birds as thee that they pounce upon." 

The aunt was at first indignant at learning that 
in despite of her boasted vigilance, a tender in- 
tercourse had been carried on by the youthful 
'overs, almost beneath her eye; but when she 
found that lier simple-hearted niece, though thus 
exposed, without the protection of bolt or bar, to 



TDK FORSAKEN MAID. 359 

all tlie niachiiKitioiis of the opposite sex, had 
come forth iiii.<iiige(l from the fiery ordeal, shd 
consoled herself with the pei^siiasion that it was 
owing to the cliaste and cautious maxims in 
which she had, as it were, steeped her to the xi^vy 
lips. 

While the aunt laid this soothing unction to 
her pride, the niece treasured up the oft-repeated 
vows of tirlelity of the page. But what is the 
love of restless, roving man ? A vagrant stream 
that dallies for a time with each flower upon its 
bank, then passes on, and leaves them all in tears. 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing 
more was heard of the page. The pomegranate 
ripened, the vine yielded up its fruit, the autumnal 
rains descended in torrents from the mountains ; 
the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snowy 
mantle, and wintry blasts howled through the 
halls of the Alham])ra — still he came not. The 
winter passed away. Again the genial spring 
burst forth with song and blossom and balmy 
zephyr ; the snows melted from the mountains, 
until none remained but on the lofty summit of 
Nevada, glistening through the sultry summer air. 
Still nothing was heard of the forgetful page. 

In the mean time the poor little Jacinta grew 
pale and thoughtful. Her former occupations 
and amusements were abandoned, her silk lay 
entangled, her guitar unstrung, her flowers wei-e 
neglected, the notes of her bird unheeded, and 
ner eyes, once so bright, were dinuned with secret 
vveeping. If any solitude could be devised to 
ibsier the passion of a love-lorn damsel, it would 



360 THE FORSAKEN MAID. 

be such a place as the Alhambra, where every- 
thing seems disposed to produce tender and ro- 
mantic reveries. It is a very paradise for lovers : 
how hard then to be alone in such a paradise — 
and not merely alone, but forsaken ! 

"Alas, silly child!" would the staid and im- 
maculate Fredegonda say, when she found her 
niece in one of her desponding moods — " did I 
not warn thee against the wiles and deceptions of 
these men ? What couldst thou expect, too, from 
one of a haughty and aspiring family — thou an 
orphan, the descendant of a fallen and impover- 
ished line ? Be assured, if the youth were true, 
his father, who is one of the proudest nobles 
about the court, would prohibit his union with 
one so humble and portionless as thou. Pluck 
up thy resolution, therefore, and drive these idle 
notions from thy mind." 

The words of the immaculate Fredegonda only 
served to increase the melancholy of her niece, 
but she sought to indulge it in private. At a late 
hour one midsummer night, after her aunt had 
retired to rest, she remained alone in the hall of 
the tower, seated beside the {dabaster fountain. 
It was here that the faithless page had first knelt 
and kissed her hand ; it was here that he had 
often vowed eternal fidelity. The poor little dam- 
sel's heart was overladen with sad and tender rec- 
ollections, her tears began to flow, and slowly fell 
fhop by drop into the fountain. By degrees the 
crystal water became agitated, and — bubble — ■ 
bubble — bubble — boiled up and was tossed 
About, until a female figure, richly clad in Moorish 
robes, slowly I'ose to view. 



THE SPIRIT OF THE FOUNTAIN. 361 

JacM'nta was so frlghteiied that she fled from 
the hall, and did not venture to return. The 
next morning she related what she had seen to 
her aunt, but the good lady treated it as a fan- 
tasy of her troubled mind, or supposed she had 
fallen asleep and dreamt beside the fountain. 
" Thou hast been thinking of the story of the 
three Moorish princesses that once inhabited this 
tower," continued she, '* and it has entered into 
thy dreams." 

" What story, aunt? I know nothing of it." 

" Thou hast certainly heard of the three prin- 
cesses, Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were 
confined in this tower by the king their father, 
and agreed to fly with three Christian cavaliers. 
The two first accomplished their escape, but the 
thii'd failed in her resolution, and, it is said, died 
in this tower." 

"• I now recollect to have heard of it," said Ja- 
cinta, "■ and to have wept over the flite of the gen- 
tle Zorahayda." 

" Thou mayest well weep over her fiite," con- 
tinued the aunt, " for the lover of Zorahayda was 
thy ancestor. He long bemoaned his Moorish love ; 
but time cured him of his grief, and he married 
a Spanish lady, from whom thou art descended.'* 

Jacinta ruminated upon these words. " That 
what I have seen is no fantasy of the brain,* 
said she to herself, " I am confident. If indeed 
it be the spirit of the gentle Zorahayda, which I 
have heard lingers about this tower, of what 
should I be afraid ? I '11 watch by the fountain 
to-uight — perhaps the visit will be repeated." 



362 THE SPIRIT OF THE FOUNTAIN. 

Towards midnight, when everything was quiet, 
Ebe again took her seat in the hall. As the bell 
iu the distant watch-tower of the Alhambra struck 
the midnight hour, the fountain was again agi- 
tated ; and bubble — bubble — bubble — it tossed 
about the waters until the Moorish female again 
rose to view. She was young and beautiful ; liei 
dress was rich with jewels, and in her hand she 
held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and was 
faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive 
voice of the ctpparition, and the sweet expression 
of her pale, melancholy countenance. 

" Daughter of mortality,"* said she, " what ail- 
etli thee '^ Why do thy tears trouble my ibun- 
tain, and thy sighs and plaints disturb the quiet 
watches of the night .'' " 

" I weep because of the faithlessness of man, 
and 1 bemoan my solitary and fbi'saken state." 

" Take comfort ; thy sorrows may yet have an 
end. Thou beholdest a Moorish princess, who, 
like thee, was unhappy in her love. A Christian 
knight, thy ancestor, won my heart, and would 
have borne me to his native land and to the bo- 
som of his church. 1 was a convert in my heart, 
but I lacked courage equal to my faith, and lin- 
gered till too late. For this the evil genii ai-e 
permitted to have power over me, and I remain 
enchanted in this tower until some pure Christian 
will deign to break the magic spell. Wilt thou 
undertake the task ? " 

" I will," replied the damsel, trembling. 

" Come liitlicr then, and fear not ; dip thy 
hand in the fountain, sprinkle the water over me. 



THE SILVER LUTE. 363 

aiid br.ptize me after the manner of thy faith ; 
BO shall the enchantment be dispelled, and my 
troubled spirit have repose." 

The damsel advanced Avith faltering steps, 
dipped her hand in the fountain, collected water 
in the palm, and sprinkled it over the pale face 
of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She 
dropped her' silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, 
crossed her white arms upon her bosom, and 
melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as if 
a shower of dew-di-ops had fallen into the foun- 
tain. 

Jacinta retired from the hall filled with awe 
and wonder. She scarcely closed her eyes that 
night ; but when she awoke at daybreak out of a 
troubled slumber, the whole appeared to her like 
a distempered dream. On descending into the 
hall, however, the truth of the vision was estab- 
lished, for beside the fountain she beheld the sil- 
ver lute glittering in the morning sunshine. 

She hastened to her aunt, to relate all that had 
befallen her, and called her to behold the lute as 
a testimonial of the reality of her story. If the 
good lady had any lingering doubts, they v»'ere 
removed when Jacinta touched the instrument, 
for she drew forth such ravishing tones as tG 
thaw even the frigid bosom of the immaculate 
Fredegonda, that region of eternal winter, into a 
genial flow. Is'othing but supernatural melody 
30uld have produced such an effect. 

The extraordinary power of the lute became 
every day more and mure apparejit. Tlie wayfai'fjr 



364 THE SILVER LUTE. 

passing by the tower was detained, and, as it were, 
spell-bound, in breathless ecstasy. The veiy 
birds gathered in the neighboring trees, and hush- 
ing their own strains, listened in charmed silence. 

Rumor soon spread the news abroad. The in- 
habitants of Granada thronged to the Alhambra 
to catch a few notes of the transcendent music 
that floated about the tower of Las Infantas. 

The lovely little minstrel was at'length ch-awn 
forth from her retreat. The rich and powerful 
of the land contended who should entertain and 
do honor to her ; or rather, who shoidd secure 
the charms of her lute to draw fashionable 
throngs to their saloons. Wherever she went her 
vigilant aunt kept a dragon watch at her elbow, 
awing the throngs of impassioned admirers who 
hung in raptures on her strains. The report of 
her wonderful powers spread from city to city. 
Malaga, Seville, Cordova, all became successively 
mad on the theme ; notliing was talked of througli- 
out Andalusia but the beautiful minstrel of tlie 
Alhambra. How could it be otherwise among a 
people so musical and gallant as the Andalusians, 
when the lute was magical in its powers, and the 
minstrel inspired by love ! 

While all Andalusia was thus music mad, a 
different mood prevailed at the court of Spain. 
Philip v., as is well known, was a miserable hy- 
[)Ochondriac, and subject to all kinds of fancies. 
Sometimes he would keep to his bed for weeks 
together, groaning under imaginary complaints. 
At other times he would insist upon abdicating 
his throne, to the great annoyance of hi;< royal 



ROYAL MEGRIMS. 365 

bpouse, who had a strong relish for the splendors 
of a court and the glories of a crown, and guided 
the sceptre of her imbecile loi-d Avith an expert 
and steady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so efficacious in dis- 
pelling the royal megrims as the power of music ; 
the queen took care, therefore, to have the best 
performers, both vocal and instrumental, at hand, 
and retained the famous Italian singer Faiinelli 
about the court as a kind of royal physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak 
had come over the mind of this sapient and illus- 
trious Bourbon tiiat surpassed all foi'mer vaga- 
ries. After a long spell of imaginary illness, 
which set all the strains of Farinelli and the con- 
sultations of a whole orchestra of court-fiddlers 
at defiance, the monarch fairly, in idea, gave up 
the ghost, and considered himself absolutely dead. 

This would have been harmless enougli, and 
even convenient both to his queen and courtiers, 
had he been content to remain in the quietude 
befitting a dead man ; but to their annoyance he 
insisted upon having the funeral ceremonies per- 
formed over him, and, to their inexpressible per- 
plexity, began to grow impatient, and to revile 
bitterly at them for negligence and disrespect, in 
leaving him unburied. What was to be done ? 
To disobey the king's positive commands was 
monstrous in the eyes of the obsequious courtiers 
of a punctilious court — but to obey him, and 
bury him alive would be downright regicide ! 

In the midst of tliis fearful dilemma a rumor 
reached the court of the female minstrel who 



bf'O THE FEMALE MINSTREL. 

was turning the brains of all Andalusia. The 
queen dispatched missions in all haste to summon 
her to St. Ildefbnso, where the court at that time 
resided. 

Within a few days, as the queen with her 
maids of honor was walking in those stately gar- 
dens, intended, with their avenues and terraces 
and fountains, to eclipse the glories of Versailles, 
the far-ftmied minstrel was conducted into her 
presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed with 
surprise at the youthful and unpretending appear- 
ance of the little being that had set the world 
madding. Slie was in her picturesque Andalu- 
sian dress, her silver lute in hand, and stood with 
modest and downcast eyes, but with a simplicity 
and freshness of beauty that still bespoke her 
'•' the Rose of the Alhambra." 

As usual she was accompanied by the ever- 
vigilant Fredegonda, who gave the whole history 
of her parentage and descent to the inquiring 
queen. If the stately Elizabetta had been inter- 
ested by the appearance of Jacinta, she was still 
more pleased when she learnt that she was of a 
meritorious though impoverished line, and that 
her father had bravely fallen in the service of the 
crown. " If thy powers equal their renown," 
said she, " and thou canst cast forth this evil spirit 
that possesses thy sovereign, thy fortunes shall 
henceforth be my care, and honors and wealth at- 
tend thee." 

Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led 
the way at once to the apartment of the moody 
nioniuxh. 



Tni: WOULD-BE-BURIED MONARCH. 31)7 

Jacinta followed v/ith downcast eyes tlirougli 
files of guards and crowds of courtiers. They 
arrived at length at a great chamber himir with 
Mack. The windows were closed to exclude tlie 
li;L>:ht of day: a number of yellow wax tapers in 
^ilver sconces diffused a lugubrious light, and 
ilimly revealed the figures of mutes in mourning 
dresses, and courtiers who glided about with noise- 
less step and woe-begone visage. In the midst of 
a funeral bed or bier, his hands folded on his 
breast, and the tip of his nose just visible, lay 
extended this would-be-buried monarch. 

The queen entered the chamber in silence, and 
pointing to a footstool in an obscure corner, beck- 
oned to Jacinta to sit down and commence. 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering 
hand, but gathering confidence and animation as 
she proceeded, drew forth such soft aerial luir- 
niony, that all present could scarce believe it mor- 
tal. As to the monarch, who had already con- 
sidered himself in the world of spirits, he set it 
down for some angelic melody or the music of the 
spheres. By degrees the theme was varied, and 
the voice of the minstrel accompanied the instru- 
ment. She poured forth one of the legendary 
ballads treating of the ancient glories of the Al- 
hambra and the achievements of the Moors. Her 
whole soul entered into the theme, for with the 
recollections of the Alhambra was associated the 
ttory of her love. The finieral-chamber resounded 
with the animating strain. It entered into the 
gloomy heart of the monarch. He raised his, 
head and gazed around : he sat up on his couch. 



SQ8 THE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC. 

his eye began to kindle — at length, leaping upon 
the floor, he called for sword and buckler. 

The triumph of music, or rather of the en- 
chanted lute, was complete ; the demon of mel- 
ancholy was cast forth ; and, as it were, a dead 
man brought to life. The windows of the apart- 
ment were thrown open ; the glorious effulgence 
of Spanish sunshine burst into the late lugubrious 
chamber ; all eyes sought the lovely enchantress, 
but the lute had fallen from her hand, she had 
sunk upon the earth, and the next moment was 
clasped to the bosom of Ruyz de Alarcon. 

The nuptials of the happy couple were cele- 
brated soon afterwards with great splendor, and 
the Rose of the Alhambra became the ornament 
and delight of the court. " But hold — not so 
fast " — I hear the reader exclaim ; " this is jump- 
ing to the end of a story at a furious rate ! 
First let us know how Ruyz de Alarcon managed 
to account to Jacinta for his long neglect?" 
Nothing more easy ; the venerable, time-honored 
excuse, the opposition to his wishes by a proud, 
pragmatical old father : besides, young people who 
really like one another soon come to an amicable 
understanding, and bury all past grievances when 
once they meet. 

But how was the pi'oud, pragmatical old father 
reconciled to the matcli ? 

Oh ! as to tiiat, his scruples were easily over- 
come by a word or two from the queen ; espe- 
cially as dignities and re^Yards were showered upon 
the blooming fovorite of royalty. Besides, the 
lute of Ji^cinta, you know, possessed a magic 



THE FIDDLE OF PAGAN IN I 369 

power, and could control the most stubborn head 
and hardest breast. 

And what came of the enchanted lute? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and 
plainly ])roves tiie truth of the whole story. That 
lute remained for some time in the family, but 
was purloined and carried off, as was supposed, 
by the great singer Farinelli, in pure jealonsy. 
At his death it passed into other hands in Italy, 
who were ignorant of its mystic powers, and 
melting down the silver, transferred the strings 
to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings still re- 
tain something of theii' magic virtues. A Avord 
in the reader's ear, but let it go no further : that 
fiddle is now bewitching the whole world, — it is 
the fiddle of Pao;auini 1 



24 





THE VETERAN. 

MONG the curious acquaintances I made 
in my rambles about the fortress, was a 
brave and battered old colonel of Inva- 
lids, who was nestled like a hawk in one of the 
Moorish towers. His history, which he was fond 
of telling, was a tissue of those adventures, mis- 
haps, and vicissitudes that render the life of al- 
most every Spaniard of note as varied and whim- 
sical as the pages of Gil Bias. 

He was in America at twelve years of age, and 
reckoned among the most signal and fortunate 
events of his life, his having seen General Wash- 
ington. Since then he had taken a part in all the 
wars of his country ; he could speak experiment- 
ally of most of the prisons and dungeons of the 
Peninsula ; had been lamed of one leg, crippled 
in his hands, and so cut up and carbonadoed that 
he was a kind of walking monument of the troubles 
of Spain, on which there v\^as a scar for every bat- 
tle and broil, as every year of captivity was notched 
upon the tree of Robinson Crusoe. The greatest 
misfortune of the brave old cavalier, however, 
appeared to have been his having commanded at 
Malaga during a time of peril and confusion, and 
been made a general by the inhabitants, to pro- 



THE VETERAN. 371 

tect them from the invasion of the French. Tliis 
had entailed npon liim a number of just claims 
upon government, tliat I feared would employ him 
until his dying day in writing and printing peti- 
tions and memorials, to the great disquiet of his 
mind, exhaustion of his purse, and penance of his 
friends ; not one of whom could visit him with- 
out having to listen to a mortal document of half 
an hour in length, and to carry away half a 
dozen pamphlets in his pocket. This, however, 
is the case throughout Spain ; everywhere you 
meet with some worthy wight brooding in a corner, 
and nursing up some pet grievance and cherished 
wrong. Besides, a Spaniard who has a lawsuit, 
or a claim upon government, may be considered 
as furnished with employment for the remainder 
of his life. 

I visited the veteran in his quarters in the up- 
per part of the Torre del Vino, or Wine Tower. 
His room was small but snug, and commanded a 
beautiful view of the Yega. It was arranged 
with a soldier's precision. Three muskets and a 
brace of pistols, all bright and shining, were sus- 
pended against the wall, with a sabre and a cane 
hanging side by side, and above them two cocked 
hats, one for parade, and one for ordinary use. 
A small shelf, containing some half dozen books, 
(brmed his library, one of which, a little old 
mouldy volume of philosophical maxims, was his 
iiivorite reading. This he thumbed and pondered 
over day by day ; applying every maxim to his 
own particular case, provided it had a little thige 
of wholesome bitterness, and treated of the in 
justice of the world. 



372 THE VETERAN. 

Yet he was social and kind-hearted, and, pro- 
vided he coidd be diverted from Ids wrongs and 
his philosophy, was an entertaining companion. I 
like these old weather-beaten sons of fortune, and 
enjoy theii" rough campaigning anecdotes. In 
the course of my visits to the one in question, I 
learnt some curious facts about an old military 
commander of the fortress, who seems to have 
resembled him in some respects, and to have had 
similar fortunes in the wars. These particulars 
have been augmented by inquiries among some 
of the old inhabitants of the place, particularly 
the father of Mateo Ximenes, of whose tradi- 
tional stories the worthy 1 am about to introduce 
to the reader was a favorite hero. 




THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY. 




^N former times there ruled, as governor 
of the Alhambra, a doughty old cavalier, 
who, from having lost one arm in the 
wars, was commonly known by the name of el 
Gobernador Manco, or " the one-armed governor." 
He in fact prided himself upon being an old 
soldier, wore his moustaches curled up to his eyes, 
a pair of campaigning boots, and a toledo as long 
as a spit, with his pocket-handkerchief in the 
basket-hilt. 

He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and 
punctilious, and tenacious of all his privileges 
and dignities. Under his sway the immunities 
of the Alhambra, as a royal residence and do- 
main, were rigidly exacted. No one was per- 
mitted to enter the fortress with fire-arms, or even 
with a sword or staff, unless he were of a certain 
lank ; and every horseman was obliged to dis- 
mount at the gate, and lead his hoi'se by thx3 bri- 
dle. Now as the hill of the Alhambra rises i'rom 
the very midst of the city of Granada, being, as 
it were, an excrescence of the capital, it must at 
all times be somewhat irksome to the captain- 
general, who commands the province, to have 
thus an imperium in imperio, a petty indepen- 



374 RIVAL POTENTATES. 

dent post in the xerj centre of his domains. It 
Wiis rendered the more gailing, in the present 
instance, from the irritable jealousy of the old 
governor, that took fire on the least question of 
authority and jurisdiction ; and from the loose 
vagrant character of the people who had gradu- 
ally nestled themselves within the fortress, us in 
a sanctuary, and thence carried on a system of 
roguery and depredation at tlie expense of the 
honest inhabitants of the city. 

Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart- 
burning between the captain-general and the gov- 
ernor, the more virulent on the part of the latter, 
inasmuch as the smallest of two neighboring po- 
tentates is always the most captious about his 
dii>:nity. Tlie stately palace of the captain-gen- 
f'.ral stood in the Plaza Nueva, immediately at 
the foot of the hill of the Alhambra ; and here 
was always a bustle and parade of guards, and 
domestics, and city functionaries. A beetling bas- 
tion of the fortress overlooked the palace and 
public square in front of it; and on this bastion 
the old governor would occasionally strut back- 
wards and forwards, with his toledo girded by 
his side, keeping a wary eye down upon his rival, 
like a hawk reconnoitring his quarry from his 
nest in a dry tree. 

Whenever he descended into the city, it was in 
grand parade ; on horseback, surrounded by his 
guards ; or in his state coach, an ancient and un- 
wieldy Spanish edifice of carved timber and gilt 
leatlier, drawn by eight mules, with running foot- 
men, outriders, and lackeys ; on which occasions 



A QUESTION OF RIGHT. 375 

he flattered himself he impressed every beholder 
with awe and admiration as vicegerent of the 
king ; thongh tlie wits of Granada, particularly 
those who loitered about the palace of the cap- 
tain-general, were apt to sneer at his petty pa- 
rade, and, in allusion to the vagrant character of 
bis subjects, to greet him with the appellation of 
" the king of the beggars." One of the most 
fruitful sources of dispute between these two 
doughty rivals was the right claimed by the gov- 
ernor to have all things passed free of duty 
through the city that were intended for the use 
of himself or his garrison. By degrees this 
privilege had given rise to extensive smuggling. 
A nest of contrabandistas took up their abode in 
the hovels of the fortress and the numerous 
caves in its vicinity, and drove a thriving business 
under the connivance of the soldiers of the garrison. 
The vigilance of the captain - general was 
aroused. He consulted his legal adviser and fac- 
totum, a shrewd meddlesome escribano, or notary, 
who rejoiced in an oppoi-tunity of perplexing the 
old potentate of the Alhambra, and involving him 
in a maze of legal subtilties. He advised the 
captain-general to insist upon the right of exam- 
ining every convoy passing through the gates 
of his city, and penned a long letter foi« him in 
vindication of the right. Governor Manco was 
a straightforward cut-and-thrust old soldier, who 
hated an escribano worse than the devil, and this 
one in particular worse than all other escribanos. 
" What I " said he, curling up his moustaches 
fiercely, " does the captain-genertil set his man of 



376 THE RUSTY CORPORAL. 

the pen to practise confusions upon me ? I '11 
let him see an old soldier is not to be baffled hy 
Bchoolcraft." 

He seized his pen and scrawled a short letter 
in a crabbed liand, in which, without deigning to 
enter into argument, he insisted on the right of 
transit free of search, and denounced vengeance 
on any custom-house officer who should hiy his 
unhallowed hand on any convoy protected by the 
flag of the Aliiambra. While this question was 
agitated between the two pragmatical potentates, it 
so happened that a mule laden with supplies for 
the fortress arrived one day at the gate of Xenil, 
by which it was to traverse a suburb of the city 
on its way to the Alhambra. The convoy was 
headed by a testy old corporal, who had long 
served under the governor, and was a man after 
his own heart ; tis rusty and stanch as an old 
Toledo blade. 

As they approached the gate of the city, the 
corporal placed the banner of the Alhambra on 
the pack-saddle of the mule, and drawing him- 
self up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced with 
his head dressed to the fiont, but with the wary 
side-glance of a cur passing through hostile ground 
and ready for a snap and a snarl. 

" Who Gfoes there ? " said the sentinel at the 
gate. 

" Soldier of the Alhambra ! " said the corporal 
without turning his head. 

" What have you in charge ? " 

" Provisions for the garrison." 

" Proceed." 



f 



INTERRUPTION OF A CONVOY. 377 

Tlie corporal marclied straight forward, followed 
by the convoy, but had not advanced many paces 
before a posse of custom-house officers rushed 
out of a small toll-house. 

" Hallo there ! " cried the leader. " Muleteer, 
halt, and open those packages." 

The corporal wheeled round, and drew him- 
self up in battle-array. " Respect the flag of the 
Alhambra," said he ; " these things are for the 
governor." 

" A figo for the • governor, and a Ago for his 
flag. Muleteer, halt, I say." 

" Stop the convoy at your peril ! " cried the 
corporal, cocking his musket. "■ Muleteer, pro- 
ceed." 

The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack ; 
the custom-house officer sprang forward and seized 
the halter ; whereupon the corporal levelled his 
piece, and shot him dead. 

The street was immediately in an uproar. 

The old corporal was seized, and after under- 
going sundry kicks, and cuifs, and cudgellings, 
which are generally given impromptu by the mob 
in Spahi, as a foretaste of the after penalties of 
the law, he was loaded Avith irons, and conducted 
to the city prison ; while his comrades were per- 
mitted to proceed with the convoy, after it had 
been well rummaged, to the Alhambra. 

The old governor was in a towering passion 
when he heard of this insult to his flag and cap- 
ture of his coi'poral. P^or a time he stormed 
about the Moorisli halls, and vapored about the 
oastions, and looked down fire and sword upon 



378 LEGAL TILTING. 

the palace of the captain-general. Having vented 
the first ebullition of his wrath, he dispatched a 
message demanding the surrender of the corporal, 
as to him alone belonged the right of sitting in 
judgment on the offences of those under his com- 
mand. The captain-general, aided by the pen of 
the delighted escribano, replied at great length, 
arguing, that, as the offence had been committed 
within the walls of his city, and against one of 
his civil officers, it was clearly within his proper 
jurisdiction. The governor rejoined by a repeti- 
tion of his demand ; the captain-general gave a 
sur-rejoinder of still greater length and legal acu- 
men ; the governor became hotter and more per- 
emptory in his demands, and the captain-general 
cooler and more copious in his replies ; until the 
old lion-hearted soldier absolutely roared with 
fury at being thus entangled in the meshes of legal 
controversy. 

While the subtle escribano was thus amusing 
himself at the expense of the governor, he was 
conducting the trial of the corporal, who, mewed 
up in a narrow dungeon of the prison, had 
merely a small grated window at which to show 
his iron-bound visage and receive the consolations 
of his friends. 

k. mountain of written testimony was diligently 
heaped up, according to Spanish form, by the in- 
defatigable escribano ; the corporal was completely 
overwhelmed by it. He was convicted of mur- 
icr, and sentenced to be hanged. 

It was in vain the governor sent down re- 
monstrance and menace from the Alhambra. 



THINGS IN EXTREMITY. 879 

The fatal day was at liand, and the corporal was 
put in capilla^ that is to say, in tlie chapel of the 
prison, as is always done witli culprits the day be- 
fore execution, that they may meditate on their 
approaching end and repent them of tlieir sins. 

Seeing things drawing to extremity, the old 
governor determined to attend to the affair in 
person. For this purpose he oi-dered out his cai- 
riage of state, and, surrounded by his guards, 
rumbled down the avenue of the Alhambra into 
the city. Driving to the house of the escribano, 
he summoned him to the portal. 

The eye of the old governor gleamed like a 
coal at beholding the smirking man of the law 
advancing with an air of exultation. 

" What is this I hear," cried he, " that you 
are about to put to death one of my soldiers ? " 

"All according to law — all in strict form of 
justice," said the self-sufficient escribano, chuck- 
ling and rubbing his hands ; " I can show your 
Excellency the written testimony in the case." 

" Fetch it hither," said the governor. The es- 
cribano bustled into his otHce, delighted with hav- 
ing another opportunity of displaying his inge- 
nuity at the expense of the hard-headed veteran. 

He returned with a satchel full of papers, and 
began to read a long deposition with professional 
volubility. By this time a crowd had collected, lis- 
tening with outstretched necks and gaping mouths. 

" Prithee, man, get into the carriage, out of 
this pestilent throng, that I may the better hear 
thee," said the governor. 

The escribano entered the carriage, when, in a 



380 THE RIVAL GIBBETS. 

twiiiklii)g, the door was closed, the coachman 
smacked his whip, — mules, carriage, guards, and 
all dashed off at a thundering rate, leaving the 
crowd in gaping wonderment ; nor did the gov- 
ernor pause until he had lodged his prey in one 
of the strongest dungeons of the Alhambra. 

He then sent down a flag of truce in military 
style, proposing a cartel, or exchange of prisoners, 
— the corporal for the notary. The pride of the 
captain-general was piqued ; he returned a con- 
temptuous refusal, and forthwith caused a gallows, 
tall and strong, to be erected in the centre of the 
Plaza Nueva for the execution of the corporal. 

" Oho ! is that the game ? " said Governor 
Manco. He gave orders, and immediately a gib- 
bet was reared on the verge of the great beetling 
bastion that overlooked the Plaza. " Now," said 
he, in a message to the captain-general, " hang 
my soldier when you please ; but at the same 
time that he is swung off in the square, look up 
to see your escribano dangling against the sky." 

The captain-general was inflexible ; troops 
were paraded in the square ; the drums beat, the 
bell tolled. An immense multitude of amateurs 
gathered together to behold the execution. On 
the other hand, the governor paraded his garrison 
on the bastion, and tolled the funeral dirge of the 
notary from the Torre de la Campana, or Tower 
of the Bell. 

The notary's wife pressed through the crowd, 
with a whole progeny of little embryo escribanos 
at her heels, and thi'owing herself at the feet of 
the captain-general, implored him not to sacrifice 



PARTING ADVICE. 381 

the life of lier hnsband, and the welfare of her- 
self and her numerous little ones, to a point of 
pride ; " for you know the old governor too well," 
said slie, " to doubt that he will put his threat in 
execution, if you hang the soldier." 

The captain-general was overpowered by her 
tears and lamentations, and the clamors of her 
callow brood. The corporal was sent up to the 
Alhambra, under a guard, in his gallows garb, 
like a hooded friar, but with head erect and a 
flice of iron. The escribano was demanded in ex- 
change, according to the cartel. The once bus- ^ 
tling and self-sufficient man of the law was drawn 
forth from his dungeon more dead than alive. 
All his flippancy and conceit had evaporated ; his 
hair, it is said, had nearly turned gray with af- 
fright, and he had a downcast, dogged look, tus if 
he still felt the halter round his neck. 

The old governor stuck his one arm akimbo, 
and for a moment surveyed him with an iron 
smile. " Henceforth, my friend," said he, " mod- 
erate your zeal in hurrying others to the gallows ; 
be not too certain of your safety, even though you 
should have the law on your side ; and above all 
take care how you play off your Schoolcraft an- 
other time upon an old soldier." 





GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. 

HILE Governor Manco, or " the one- 
armed," kept np a sliow of military state 
in the Alhambra, he became nettled at 
the reproaches continually cast npon his fortress, 
of being a nestling-place of I'ognes and contraban- 
distas. On a sudden, the old potentate determined 
on reform, and setting vigorously to work, ejected 
whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress and 
the gypsy caves with which the surrounding hills 
are honeycombed. He sent out soldiers, also, to 
patrol the avenues and footpaths, with orders to 
take up all suspicious persons. 

One bright summer morning a patrol, consist- 
ing of the testy old corporal who had distinguished 
himself in the atfair of the notary, a trumpeter, 
and two privates, was seated under the garden- 
wall of the Generalife, beside the road which 
leads down from the Mountain of the Sun, when 
they heard the tramp of a horse, and a male voice 
singing in rough, though not unmusical tones, an 
old Castilian campaigning-song. 

Presently they beheld a sturdy, sunburnt fel- 
low, clad in tlie ragged garb of a foot-soldier, 
leading a powerful Arabian horse caparisoned in 
the ancient Morisco fashion. 



THE i^OLDlER AND THE PATROL. 38;^ 

AstoiiislicMl at tlie sight of a stranire soldier de- 
Bcendiiig, steed in hand, from that solitary monn- 
tain, the corporal stepped forth and challenged 
him. 

" Who goes there ? " 

"A friend." 

" Who and what are yon } " 

" A poor soldier just from the wars, with a 
cracked crown and empty purse for a reward." 

By this time they were enabled to view him 
more narrowly.. He had a black patch across his 
forehead, which, with a griz^^led beard, added to 
a certain dare-devil cast of countenance, while a 
slight squint threw into the whole an occasional 
gleam of roguish good-humor. 

Having answered the questions of the patrol, 
the soldier seemed to consider himself entitled to 
make others in return. " May I ask," said he, 
" what city is that which I see at the foot of the 
hill ? " 

" What city ! " cried the trumpeter ; " come, 
that 's too bad. Here 's a fellow lurking about the 
Mountain of the Sun, and demands the name of 
the great city of Granada ! " 

" Granada ! Madre di Dios ! can it be pos- 
sible ? " 

" Perhaps not ! " rejoined the trumpeter ; " and 
perhaps you have no idea that yonder are the 
towers of the Alhambra." 

" Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, " do 
not trifle with me ; if this be indeed the Alham- 
bra, I have some strange matters to reveal to the 
governor." 



384: THE GOVERNOR IN SLIPPERS. 

" You will have an opportunity," said the cor- 
poral, "■ for we mean to take you before him." 
By this time the trumpeter had seized the bridle 
of the steed, the two privates had each secured 
an arm ■>f the soldier, the corporal put himself in 
iront, gave the word, " Forward — march ! " and 
away they marched for the Alhambra. 

The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine 
Arabian horse, brought in captive by the patrol, 
attracted the attention of all the idlers of the 
fortress, and of those gossip groups that generally 
rsssemble about wells and fountains at early 
dawn. The wheel of the cistern paused in its 
rotations, and the slipshod servant-maid stood gap- 
ing, with pitcher in hand, as the corjioral passed 
by with his prize. A motley train gradually 
gathered in the rear of the escort. 

Knowing nods and Avinks and conjectures passed 
from one to another. " It is a deserter," said one ; 
" A contrabandista," said another ; " A bandolero," 
said a third ; — until it was affirmed that a cap- 
tain of a desperate band of robbers had been 
captured by the prowess of the corporal and liis 
patrol. " Well, well," said the old crones, one to 
another, " captain or not, let him get out of the 
grasp of old Governor Manco if he can, though 
lie is but one-handed." 

Governor Manco was seated in one of the 
inn( r halls of the Alhambra, taking his morning's 
cup of chocolate in company with his confessor, — 
a fat Franciscan friar, from the neighboring con- 
vent. A demio-e, dark-eyed damsel of Malaga, 
the daughter of his housekeeper, was attending 



TIJK GOVERNOR IN COURT. 385 

upon hirn. The world liiiited that the damsel, 
who, with all lier demureness, was a sly bux- 
om bagLraire, liad found out a soft spot in the 
iron heart of tiie old governor, and held com- 
plete control over him. But let that pass — 
the dome>tic affairs of these mighty potentates 
of the earth should not be too narrowly scruti- 
nized. 

Wlien word was brought that a suspicious 
stranger had been taken lurking about the for- 
tress, and was actually in the outer court, in dur- 
ance of the corporal, waiting the pleasure of his 
Excellency, the pride and stateliness of office 
swelled the bosom of the o^ove^'nor. Giving back 
his chocolate-cup into the hands of the demure 
damsel, he called for his basket-hilted sword, girded 
it to his side, twirled up his moustaches, took his 
seat in a large high-backed chair, assumed a bit- 
ter and forbidding aspect, and ordered the pris- 
oner into his presence. The soldier was brought 
in, still closely pinioned by his captors, and guarded 
by the corporal. He maintained, however, a res- 
olute self-confident air, and returned the sharp, 
scrutinizing look of the governor with an easy 
squint, which by no means pleased the punctilious 
Old potentate. 

" Well, culprit," said the governor, after he had 
regarded him for a moment in silence, " what have 
you to say for yourself — who are you ? " 

" A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought 
away nothing but scars and bruises." 

" A soldier — humph — a foot-soldier by your 
garb. I understand you have a fine Arabian 
25 



386 A SOLDIER'S STORY. 

horse. I presume you brought him too from the 
wars, besides your scars and bruises.'' 

" May it please your Excellency, I have some- 
thing strange to tell about that horse. Indeed I 
have one of the most wonderful things to relate. 
Something too that concerns the security of tliis 
fortress, indeed of all Granada. But it is a mat- 
ter to be imparted only to your private ^ar, or in 
presence of such only as are in your confidence.'' 

The govei'nor considered for a moment, and 
then directed the corporal and his men to with- 
draw, but to post themselves outside of the door, 
and be ready at a call. " This holy friar," said he, 
" is my confessor, you may say anything in his 
presence ; — and this damsel," nodding towards 
the handmaid, who had loitered with an air of 
great curiosity, " this damsel is of great secrecy 
and discretion, and to be trusted with anytliing." 

The soldier gave a glance between a squint 
and a leer at the demure handmaid. " I am per- 
fectly willing," said he, " that the damsel should 
remain." 

When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier 
commenced his story. He was a fluent, smooth- 
tongued varlet, and had a command of language 
above his apparent rank. 

" May it please your Excellency," said he, " I 
am, as I before observed, a soldier, and have 
eeen some hard service, but my term of enlist- 
ment being expired, I was discharged, not long 
since, from the army at Valladolid, and set out 
on foot for my native village in Andalusia. Yes- 
t<^rday evening tlie sun went down as I was trav 
ersing a great dry plain of Old Castile." 



A SOLDIER'S STORY. 387 

" Hold ! " cried the governor, " what is this you 
say? Old Castile is some two or three hundred 
miles from this." 

" Even so," replied the soldier, coolly. " I told 
your Excellency 1 had strange things to relate ; 
but not more strange than true, as your Excel- 
lency will find, if you will deign me a patient 
hearing." 

" Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling 
up his moustaches. 

" As the sun went down," continued the sol- 
dier, " I cast my eyes about in search of quar- 
ters for the niglit, but as far as my sight could 
reach there were no signs of habitation. I saw 
that I should have to make my bed on. the naked 
plain, with my knapsack for a pillow ; but your 
Excellency is an old soldier, and knows that to. 
one who has been in the wars, such a night's 
lodging is no great hardship." 

The governor nodded assent, as he drew his 
pocket-handkerchief out of the basket-hilt to 
drive away a fly that buzzed about his nose. 

" Well, to make a long story short," continued 
the soldier, " I trudged forward for several miles 
until 1 came to a bridge over a deep ravine, 
through Avhich ran a little thread of water, al- 
most dried up by the summer heat. At one end 
of the bridge was a Moorish tower, the upper 
end all in ruins, but a vault in the foundation 
quite entire. Here, thinks I, is a good place to 
make a halt ; so I went down to the stream, and 
took a hearty drink, for the water was pure and 
?weet, and I was parched with thirst ; then, 



388 SOLDIER'S FARE. 

opening my wallet, I took out an onion and a 
few crusts, which were all my provisions, and 
Beating myself on a stone on the margin of the 
stream, began to make my supper, — intending 
afterwards to quarter myself for the night in the 
vault of the tower ; and capital quarters they 
would have been for a campaigner just from the 
wars, as your Excellency, who is an old soldier, 
may suppose." 

" I have put up gladly with worse in my 
time," said the governor, returning his pocket- 
handkerchief into the hilt of his sword. 

" While I was quietly crunching my crust," 
pursued the soldier, " I heard something stir 
within the vault ; I listened — it was the tramp 
of a horse. By-and-by a man came forth from 
.a door in the foundation of the tower, close by 
the water's edge, leading a powerful horse by 
the bridle. I could not well make out what he 
was, by the starlight. It had a suspicious look 
to be lurking among the ruins of a tower, in that 
wild solitary place. He might be a mere way- 
farer, like mys^elf ; he might be a contrabandista ; 
he might be a bandolero ! what of that ? thank 
heaven and my poverty, I had nothing to lose ; 
BO I sat still and crunched my crust. 

** He led his horse to the water, close by wher^ 
1 was sitting, so that I had a fair opportunity of 
reconnoitring him. To my surprise he waa 
dressed in a Moorish garb, with a cuirass of 
Bteel, and a polished skull-cap that I distin- 
guished by the reflection of the stars upon it 
His horse, too, was harnessed in the Moriscc 



THE MOORISH TROOPER. 389 

fashion, with great shovel stirmps. lie led him, 
as I said, to the gide of the stream, into which 
the animal plunged his head almost to the eyes, 
and drank until I thought he would have burst. 

" ' Comrade,' said I, ' your steed drinks well ; 
it *s a good sign when a horse plunges his muzzle 
bravely into the water.' 

" ' He may well drink,' said the strange 
speaking with a Moorish accent ; ' it is a good 
year since he had his last draught.' 

" ' By Santiago,' said I, ' that beats even the 
camels I have seen in Africa. But come, you 
seem to be something of a soldier, will you sit 
down and take part of a soldier's fare ? ' In 
fact, 1 felt the want of a companion in this 
lonely place, and was willing to put up with an 
infidel. Besides, as your Excellency well knows, 
a soldier is never very particular about the faith 
of his company, and soldiers of all countries are 
comrades on peaceable ground." 

The governor again nodded assent. 

" Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share 
my supper, such as it was, for I could not do 
less in common hospitality. ' I have no time to 
pause for meat or drink,' said he, ' I have a long 
journey to make before morning.' 

" ' In what direction ? ' said I. 

" ' Andalusia,' said he. 

" ' Exactly my route,' said I ; 'so, as you won't 
stop and eat with me, perhaps you will let me 
mount and ride with you. I see your horse is 
of a powerful frame ; I '11 warrant he '11 carry 
double.' 



S90 A SCAMPER. 

" ' Agreed/ said the trooper ; and it would 
not have been civil and soldierlike to refuse^ 
especially as I had offered to share my supper 
with him. So up he mounted, and up I mounted 
behind him. 

" ' Hold fast/ said he, ' my steed goes like the 
wind.' 

" ' Never fear me/ said I, and so off we set. 

" From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, 
fi'om a trot to a gallop, and from a gallop to a 
harum-scarum scamper. It seemed as if rocks, 
trees, houses, everything flew hurry-scurry be- 
hind us. 

" ' What town is this ? ' said I. 

" ' Segovia,' said he ; and before the word was 
out of his mouth, the towers of Segovia were 
out of sight. We swept up the Guadarama 
mountains, and down by the Escurial ; and we 
skirted the walls of Madrid, and we scoured 
away across tlie plains of La Mancha. In this 
way we went up hill and down dale, by towers 
and cities, all buried in deep sleep, and across 
mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glimmering 
in the starlight. 

" To make a long story short, and not to fa- 
tigue your Excellency, the trooper suddenly pulled 
up on the side of a mountain. ' Here we are/ 
said he, ' at the end of our journey/ 1 looked 
about, but could see no signs of habitation ; noth- 
ing but the mouth of a cavern. While I looked 
I saw multitudes of people in Moorish dresses, 
6ome on horseback, some on foot, arriving as if 
borne by the wind from all points of the com- 



THE ENCHANTED CAVERN. 391 

id hurrying into the mouth of the caverr 
like bees into a hive. Before I could ask a 
question, the trooper struck his long Moorish 
spurs into the horse's flanks, and dashed in with 
the throng. We passed along a steep winding 
way, that descended into the very bowels of the 
mountain. As we pushed on, a light began to 
glimmer up, by little and little, like the tirst 
glimmerings of day, but what caused it I could 
not discern. It grew stronger and stronger, and 
enabled me to see everything around. 1 now 
noticed, as we passed along, great caverns, open- 
ing to the right and left, like halls in an arsenal. 
In some there were shields, and helmets, and 
cuirasses, and lances, and cimeters, hanging 
against the walls ; in others there were great 
heaps of warlike munitions and camp-equipage 
lying upon tlie ground. 

",lt would have done your Excellency's heart 
good, being an old soldier, to have seen such 
grand provision for war. Then, in other cav- 
erns, there were long rows of horsemen armed 
to the teeth, with lances raised and banners un- 
furled, all ready for the field ; but they all sat 
motionless in their saddles, like so many statues. 
Ill other halls were warriors sleeping on tho 
ground beside their horses, and foot-soldiers in 
groups ready to fall into the ranks. All were iu 
old-fashioned Moorish dresses and armor. 

" Well, your Excellency, to cut a long story 
short, we at lengtli entered an immense cavei-n, 
:>r I may say palace, of grotto-work, the walls 
jf which seemed to be veined with gold and sil- 



392 THE ENCHANTED ARMY. 

-rer, and to sparkle with diamonds and sapphires 
and all kinds of precious stones. At the upper 
end sat a Moorish king on a golden throne, with 
his nobles on each side, and a guard of African 
blacks vv'ith drawn (iimeters. All the crowd that 
continued to flock in, and amounted to thousands 
and thousands, passed one by one before his 
throne, each paying homage as he passed. Some 
of the multitude were dressed in magnificent 
robes, without stain or blemish, and sparkling 
with jewels ; others in burnished and enamelled 
armor ; while others were in mouldered and mil- 
dewed garments, and in armor all battered and 
dented and covered with rust. 

" I had hitherto held my tongue, for your Ex- 
cellency well knows it is not for a soldier to ask 
many questions when on duty, but I could keep 
silent no longer. 

" ' Prithee, comrade,' said I, ' what is. the 
meaning of all this ? ' 

" ' This,' said the trooper, ' is a great and fear- 
ful mystery. Know, O Christian, that you see 
before you the court and army of Boabdil the 
last king of Granada.'- 

" ' What is this you tell me ? ' cried I. 
Boabdil and his court were exiled from the 
land hundreds of years agone, and all died in 
Africa.' 

" ' So it is recorded in your lying chronicles,* 
replied the Moor ; ' but know that Boabdil and 
the warrioi's who made the last struojo-le for 
Granada were all shut up in the mountain by 
powerful enchantment. As for the king and 



THE ENCHANTED ARMY. 393 

army that marched foi'th from Granada at the 
time of the surrender, they were a mere phan- 
tom train of spirits and demons, permitted to 
assume those shapes to deceive the Cliristian 
govereigns. And furthermore let me tell you, 
friend, that all Spain is a country under the 
])ower of enchantment. There is not a moun- 
tain cave, not a lonely watch-tower in the plains, 
nor ruined castle on the hills, but has some spell- 
bound warriors sleeping from age to age within 
its vaults, until the sins are expiated for which 
Allah permitted the dominion to pass for a time 
out of the hands of the faithful. Once every 
year, on the eve of St. John, they are released 
from enchantment, from sunset to sunrise, and 
permitted to repair here to pay homage to their 
sovereign ! and the crowds which you beheld 
swarming into the cavern are Moslem warriors 
from their haunts in all parts of Spain. For 
my own part, you saw the ruined tower of the 
bridge in Old Castile, where I have now wintered 
and summered for many hundred years, and 
where I must be back again by daybreak. As 
to the battalions of horse and foot which you 
beheld drawn up in array in the neighboring 
caverns, they are the spellbound warriors of 
Granada. It is written in the book of fate, that 
when the enchantment is broken, Boabdil will 
descend from the mountain at the head of this 
army, resume his throne in the Alhambra and 
his svvay of Granada, and gathering together 
the enchanted warriors from all parts of Spain, 
will reconquer the Peninsula and restore it to 
Moslem rule.' 



394 THE EXIT. 

" ' And when shall this happen ? ' said I. 

" ' Allah alone knows : we had hoped the day 
of deliverance was at hand ; but there reigns at 
present a vigilant governor in the Alhambra, 
a stanch old soldier, well known as Governor 
Manco. While such a warrior holds command 
of the very outpost, and stands ready to check the 
first irruption from the mountain, I fear Boabdil 
and his soldiery must be content to rest upon 
their arms.' " 

Here the governor raised himself somewhat 
perpendicularly, adjusted his sword, and twirled 
up his moustaches. 

" To make a long story short, and not X/) fa- 
tigue your Excellency, the trooper, having given 
me this account, dismounted from his steed. 

" ' Tarry here,' said he, ' and guard my steed 
while I go and bow the knee to Boabdil.' So 
saying, he strode away among the throng that 
pressed forward to the throne. 

" ' What 's to be done ? ' thought I, when 
thus left to myself; 'shall I wait here until this 
intidel returns to whisk me off on his goblin 
steed, the Lord knows where ; or shall I make 
the most of my time and beat a retreat from 
this hobgoblin community ? ' A soldier's mind 
is soon made up, as your Excellency well knows. 
As to the horse, he belonged to an avowed enemy 
of the faith and the realm, and was a fiiir prize 
ac(!ording to the rules of war. So hoisting my- 
self from the crupper into the saddle, I turne'^ 
the reins, struck the Moorish stirrups into the 
bides of the steed, and put him to make the bes< 



THE EXIT. 595 

of liis way out of the passage by which he had 
entered. As we scoured by the halls where the 
Moslem horsemen sat in motionless battalions, I 
thonpjht I heard the clang of armor and a hollow 
murmur of voices^ I gave the steed anotiier 
taste of the stii-rups and doubled my speed 
There was now a sound beiiind me like a rush 
ing blast ; I heard the clatter of a thousand hoofs ; 
a countless throng overtook me. I was borne 
along in the press, and hurled forth from the 
mouth of the Lavern, while thousands of shadowy 
forms were swept off in every direction by the 
four winds of heaven. 

" In the whirl and confusion of tlie scene I was 
thrown senseless to the earth. When I came to 
myself, I was lying on the brow of a hill, with the 
Arabian steed standing beside me ; for in falling, 
my arm had slipped within the bridle, which, I 
presume, prevented his whisking off to Old Cas- 
tile. 

" Your Excellency may easily judge of my sur- 
prise, on looking round, to behold hedges of aloes 
and Indian figs and other proofs of a southern 
climate, and to see a great city below me, with 
towers, and palaces, and a grand cathedral. 

" I descended the hill cautiously, leading my 
steed, for I was afraid to mount him again, lest 
he should play me some slippery trick. As I 
descended I met with your patrol, who let me 
into the secret that it was Granada that lay before 
me, and that I was actually under the walls of 
the Alhambra, the fortress of the redoubted Gov- 
ernor Manco, the ten-oi- of all enchanted Moslems 



396 A SOLDIER'S ADVICE. 

When I heard this, I determined at onoe to seek 
your Excellency, to inform you of all that I had 
Been, and to warn you of the perils that surround 
and undermine you, that you may take measures 
in time to guard your fortress, and the kingdom 
itself, from this intestine army that lurks in the 
very bowels of the land." 

" And prithee, friend, you who are a veteran 
campaigner, and have seen so much service," 
said the governor, " how would you advise me 
to proceed, in order to prevent this evil ? " 

*' It is not for a humble private of the ranks," 
said the soldier, modestly, " to pretend to instruct 
a commander of your Excellency's sagacity, but it 
appears to me that your Excellency might cause 
all the caves and entrances into tlie mountains 
to be walled up with solid mason-work, so that 
Boabdil and his army might be completely corked 
up in their subterranean habitation. If the good 
father, too," added the soldier, reverently bow- 
ing to the friar, and devoutly crossing himself, 
" would consecrate the barricadoes with his bless- 
ing, and put up a few crosses and relics and 
images of saints, I think they might withstand all 
the power of infidel enchantments." 

" They doubtless would be of great avail," said 
the friar. 

The governor now placed his arm akimbo, 
with his hand resting on the hilt of his toledo, 
fixed his eye upon the soldier, and gently wagging 
his head from one side to the other, — 

" So, friend," said he, " then you really suppose 
I am to be gulled with this cock-and-bull story 



A MOORISH PURSE. 307 

about enchanted mountains and enchanted Moors ? 
Hark ye, culprit ! — not another word. An old 
soldier you may be, but you '11 find you have an 
older soldier to deal with, and one not easily out- 
generalled. Ho ! guards there ! put this fellow 
m irons." 

The demure handmaid would have put in a 
word in favor of the prisoner, but the governor 
silenced her with a look. 

As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the 
guards felt something of bulk in his pocket, and 
drawing it forth, found a long leathern purse that 
appeared to be well filled. Holding it by one 
corner, he turned out the contents upon the table 
before the governor, and never did freebooter's 
bag make more gorgeous delivery. Out tumbled 
rings, and jewels, and rosaries of pearls, and 
sparkling diamond crosses, and a profusion of 
ancient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to 
the floor, and rolled away to the uttermost parts 
of the chamber. 

For a time the functions of justice were sus- 
pended ; there was a universal scramble after the 
glittering fugitives. The governor alone, who 
was imbued with true Spanish pride, maintained 
his stately decorum, though his eye betrayed a 
little anxiety until the last coin and jewel was 
restored to the sack. 

The friar was not so calm ; his whole face 
glowed like a furnace, and his eyes twinkled and 
flashed at sight of the rosaries and crosses. 

" Sacrilegious wretch that thou art ! " ex- 
claimed he ; " what church or sanctuary hast 
tliou been plundering of these sacred relics ? " 



398 A SOLDIER'S QUARTERS. 

" Neitlier one nor the other, holy father. If they 
be sacrilegious spoils, they must have been taken, 
in times long past, by the infidel trooper I have 
mentioned. I was just going to tell his Excellency 
when he interrupted me, that, on taking posses- 
sion of the trooper's horse, I unhooked a leathern 
sack which hung at the saddle-boAV, and which I 
presume contained the plunder of his campaign- 
ings in days of old, when the Moors overran the 
country." 

" jMighty well ; at present you will make up 
your mind to take up your quarters in a chamber 
of the vermilion tower, which, though not under a 
magic spell, will hold you as safe as any cave of 
your enchanted Moors." 

" Your Excellency will do as you think proper," 
said the prisoner, coolly. "■ I shall be thankful 
to your Excellency for any accommodation in the 
fortress. A soldier who has been in the wars, 
as your Excellency well knows, is not particular 
about his lodgings. Provided I have a snug dun- 
geon and regular rations, I shall manage to make 
myself comfortable. I would only entreat that 
Avhile your Excellency is so careful about me, you 
would have an eye to your fortress, and think 
on the hint I dropped about stopping up the en- 
trances to the mountain." 

Here ended the scene. The prisoner was con- 
ducted to a strong dungeon in the vermilion tower, 
the Arabian steed was led to his Excellency's 
stable, and the trooper's sack was deposited in 
his Excellency's strong box. To the latter, it is 
true, tlie friar made some demur, questioning 



MANUEL BORAS CO. 399 

whether the sacred relics, which were evidently 
eacrilei»''ous spoils, should not be placed in custody 
of the cliureh ; but as the governor was perempt- 
ory on the subject, and was absolute lord in the 
Alhainbra, the friar discreetly dropped the dis- 
cussion, but determined to convey intelligence 
of the fact to the church dignitaries in Granada. 

To explain these prompt and rigid measures 
on the part of old Governor Manco, it is proper 
to observe, that about this time the Alpuxarra 
mountains in the neighborhood of Granada were 
terribly infested by a gang of robbers, under the 
command of a daring chief named Manuel Eorasco, 
who were accustomed to prowl about the country, 
and even to enter the city in various disguises, 
to gain intelligence of the departure of convoys 
of merchandise, or travellers with well-lined 
purses, whom they took care to waylay in distant 
and solitary ptisses of the road. These repeated 
and daring outrages had awakened the attention 
of government, and the commanders of the vari- 
ous posts had received instructions to be on the 
alert, and to take up all suspicious stragglers. 
Governor Manco was particularly zealous in con- 
sequence of the various stigmas that had been 
Ciist upon his fortress, and he now doubted not 
he had entrapped some formidable desperado of 
this gano^. 

In the mean time the story took wind, and 
became the talk, not merely of the fortress, but 
of the whole city of Granada. It was said that 
the noted robber Maiuiel Borasco, the terror of 
the Alpuxarras, had fallen into the clutches 



400 MANUEL BORAS CO. 

of old Governor Manco, and been cooped up 
by him in a dungeon of the vermilion towers ; 
and every one who had been robbed by him 
flocked to recognize the marauder. The vermil- 
ion towers, as is well known, stand apart from 
Uie Alhambra on a sister hill, separated from the 
main fortress by the ravine down which passes 
the main avenue. There were no outer walls, 
but a sentinel patrolled before the tower. The 
window of the chamber in which the soldier was 
confined was strongly grated, and looked upon a 
small esplanade. Here the good folks of Granada 
repaired to gaze at him, as they would at a 
laughing hyena, grinning through the cage of a 
menagerie. Nobody, however, recognized him 
for Manuel Borasco, for that terrible robber was 
noted for a ferocious physiognomy, and had by 
no means the good-humored squint of the pris- 
oner. Visitors came not merely from the city, 
but from all parts of the country ; but nobody 
knew him, and there began to be doubts in the 
minds of the common people whether there might 
not be some truth in his story. That Boabdil 
and his army were shut up in the mountain, was 
an old tradition which many of the ancient inhab- 
itants had heard from their fathers. Numbers 
went up to the Mountain of the Sun, or rather of 
St. Klena, in search of the cave mentioned by the 
Boldier ; and saw and peeped into the deep dark 
pit, descending, no one knows how far, into the 
mountain, and which remains there to this day — 
the fabled entrance to the subterranean abode of 
Boabdil. 



CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 401 

By degrees the soldier became popular with 
the common people. A freebooter of the moun- 
tains is by no means the opprobrious character in 
Spain that a robber is in any other country : on 
tiie contrary, he is a kind of chivah'ous personage 
in the eyes of the lower classes. Thei'e is always 
a disposition, also, to cavil at the conduct of tliose 
in command ; and many began to murmur at the 
high-handed measures of old Governor Manco, 
and to look upon the prisoner in the light of a 
martyr. 

The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish 
fellow, that had a joke for every one who came 
near his window, and a soft speech for every 
female. He had procured an old guitar also, 
and would sit by his window and sing ballads 
and love-ditties to the delight of the women of 
the neighborhood, who would assemble on the 
esplanade in the evening and dance boleros to his 
music. Havinsf trimmed off his roug-h beard, 
his sunburnt face found favor in the eyes of the 
fair, and the demure handmaid of the governor 
declared that his squint was perfectly irresistible. 
This kind-hearted damsel had from the first 
evinced a deep sympathy in his fortunes, and hav- 
ing in vain tried to mollify the governor, had set 
to work privately to mitigate the rigor of his dis- 
pensations. Every day she brought the prisoner 
some crumbs of comfort which had fallen from 
the governor's table, or been abstracted from his 
larder, together with, now and then, a consoling 
bottle of choice Val de Pefias, or rich Malaga. 

While this petty treason was going on in the 
-if} 



402 THE SPOLIA OP IMA. 

very centre of tlie old governor's citadel, a storm 
of open war was brewing up among his external 
foes. The circnmstance of a bag of gold and 
jewels having been found upon the person of 
the supposed robber, had been reported, Avith 
many exaggerations, in Granada. A question 
of territorial jurisdiction was immediately started 
by the governor's inveterate rival, the captain- 
general. He insisted that the prisoner had been 
captured without the precincts of the Alhambra, 
and within the rules of his authority. He de- 
manded his body therefore, and the spolia opima 
taken with him. Due information having been 
carried likewise by the friar to the grand inquisi- 
tor of the ci'osses and rosaries, and other i-elics 
contained in the bag, he claimed the culpi'it as 
having been guilty of sacrilege, and insisted that 
his plunder was due to the church, and his body 
to the next auto-da-fe. Tiie feuds ran high ; 
the governor was furious, and swore, rather than 
surrender his captive, he would hang him up 
within the Alhambra, as a spy caught within the 
purlieus of the fortress. 

Tlie captain-general threatened to send a body 
of soldiers to ti-ansfer the prisoner from the ver- 
milion tower to the city. The grand inquisitor 
was equally bent upon dispatcliing a number of 
the familiars of the Holy Office. Word was 
brought late at night to the governor of these 
majchinations. " Let them come," said he, 
" they '11 find me beforehand with them ; he 
must rise bright and early who would take in 
an old soldier." Ho accordingly issued orders 



A SOLDIER'S RETREAT. 403 

to have the prisoner removed, at daybreak, to 
the donjon-keep within the walls of the Alham- 
bra. "And d'ye heai-, child," said he to his de- 
mure handmaid, " tap at my door, and wake me 
before cock-crowing, tliat I may see to the matter 
myself" 

The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody 
tapped at the door of the governor. The sun rose 
high above the mountain-tops, and glittered in 
at his casement, ere the governor was awakened 
from his morning dreams by his veteran corporal, 
who stood before him with terror stamped upon 
his iron visage. 

" He 's off ! he 's gone ! " cried the corporal, 
gasping for breath. 

" Who 's off. — who 's gone ? " 

" The soldier — the robber — the devil, for 
aught I know ; his dungeon is empty, but the 
door locked : no one knows how he has escaped 
out of it." 

« Who saw him last ? " 

" Your handmaid ; she brought him his supper." 
* " Let her be called instantly." 

Here was new matter of confusion. The 
chamber of the demure damsel was likewise 
empty, her bed had not been slept in : she had 
doubtless gone off with the culprit, as she had 
pppeared, for some days past, to have frequent 
conversations with him. 

This was wounding the old governor in a ten- 
der part, but he had scarce time to wince at it, 
when new misfortunes broke upon his view. On 
his cabinet he found his strong; box 



404 A SOLDI ER-S GIFT. 

open, tlie leather purse of the trooper abstracted, 
and with it a couple of corpulent bags of doub- 
loons. 

But how, and which way had the fugitives 
escaped ? An old peasant who lived in a cottage 
by the road-side leading up into the Sierra, de- 
clared that he had heard the tramp of a powerful 
steed just before daybreak, passing up into the 
mountains. He had looked out at his casement, 
and could just distinguish a horseman, with a 
female seated before him. 

" Search the stables ! " cried Governor Manco. 
The stables were searched ; all the horses were 
in their stalls, excepting the Arabian steed. In 
his place was a stout cudgel, tied to the manger, 
and on it a label bearing these words, " A gift to 
Governor Manco, from an Old Soldier." 





A FETE IN THE ALIIMIBRA. 




HE Saint's day of my neighbor and rival 
potentate, the count, took place during his 
sojourn in the Alhanibra, on which occa- 
sion he gave a domestic fete ; assembling round 
him the members of his family and household, 
while the stewards and old servants from his dis- 
tant possessions came to pay him reverence and 
partake of the good cheer which was sure to be 
provided. It presented a type, though doubtless 
a faint one, of the establishment of a Spanish 
noble in the olden time. 

The Spaniards were always grandiose in their 
notions of style. Huge palaces ; lumbering 
equipages, laden with footmen and lackeys ; 
pompous retinues, and useless dependents of all 
kinds ; the dignity of a noble seemed commen- 
surate with the legions who loitered about his 
halls, fed at his expense, and seemed ready to 
devour him alive. This, doubtless, originated 
in the necessity of keeping up hosts of armed 
retainers during the wars with the Moors ; wars 
of inroads and surprises ; when a noble was 
liable to be suddenly assailed in his castle by a 
foray of the enemy, or summoned to the field bj^ 
his sovereign. 



406 SPANISH STYLE. 

The custom remained after the wars were at 
an end ; and what originated in necessity was 
kept up through ostentation. The wealth which 
flowed into the country from conquests and 
discoveries fostered the passion for princely 
establishments. According to magnificent old 
Spanish usage, in which pride and generosity 
bore equal parts, a superannuated servant was 
never turned off, but became a charge for the 
rest of his days ; nay, his children, and his 
children's children, and often their relatives to 
the right and left, became gradually entailed 
upon the family. Hence the huge palaces of 
the Spanish nobility, which have such an air of 
empty ostentation from the greatness of their size 
compared with the mediocrity and scantiness of 
their furniture, were absolutely required, in the 
golden days of Spain, by the patriarchal habits 
of their possessors. They were little better than 
vast barracks for their hereditary generations of 
hangers - on that battened at the expense of a 
Spanish noble. 

These patriarchal habits of the Spanish no- 
bility have declined with their revenues ; though 
the spirit wliich prompted them remains, and 
wars sadly with their altered fortunes. The 
poorest among them have always some heredi- 
tary hangers-on, who live at their expense, and 
make them poorer. Some who, like my neigh- 
bor the count, retain a modicum of their once 
princely possessions, keep up a shadow of the 
ancient system, and their estates are overrun and 
the produce consumed by generations of idle re- 
tainers. 



A PATRIARCHAL FETE. 407 

The count held estates in various parts of the 
kinvfloni, some inchiding whole villages ; yet the 
revenues collected from them were comparatively 
Buiall ; some of them, he assured me, barely fed 
the hordes of dependents nestled upon them, who 
seemed to consider themselves entitled to live 
rent-free and be maintained into the bargain, be- 
cause their forefathers had been so since time 
immemorial. 

The saint's day of the old count gave me a 
glimpse into a Spanish interior. For two or 
three days previous preparations were made for 
the fete. Viands of all kinds were brought up 
from town, greeting the olfactory nerves of the 
old invalid guards, as they were borne past them 
through the Gate of Justice. Servants hurried 
officiously about the courts ; the ancient kitchen 
of the palace was again alive with the tread of 
cooks and scullions, and blazed with unwonted 
fires. 

When the day arrived I beheld the old count 
in patriarchal state, his family and household 
around him, with functionaries who mismanaged 
his estates at a distance and consumed the pro- 
ceeds ; while numerous old worn-out servants 
and pensioners were loitering about the courts 
and keeping within smell of the kitchen. 

It was a joyous day in the Alhambra. The 
guests dispersed themselves about the palace be- 
fore the hour of dinner, enjoying the luxuries of 
its courts and fountains, and embosomed gardens, 
and music and laughter resounded through its 
iite silent halls. 



408 LA NINA. 

The feast, for a set dinner in Spain is literally 
a feast, was served in the beautiful Morisco Hall 
of " Las dos Hermanas." The table was loaded 
with all the luxuries of the season : there was 
an almost interminable succession of dishes ; 
showing how truly the feast at the rich Caina- 
chos' wedding in " Don Quixote " was a picture of 
a Spanish banquet. A joyous conviviality pre-' 
vailed round the board ; for though Spaniards 
are generally abstemious, they are complete rev- 
ellers on occasions like the present, and none 
more so than the Andalusians. For my part, 
there was something peculiarly exciting in thus 
sitting at a feast in the royal halls of the Alham- 
bra, given by one who might claim remote affin- 
ity with its Moorish kings, and who wasa lin- 
eal representative of Gonsalvo of Cordova, one 
of the most distinguished of the Christian con- 
querors. 

The banquet ended, the company adjourned to 
the Hall of Ambassadors. Here every one en- 
deavored to contribute to the general amusement, 
singing, improvising, telling wonderful tales, or 
dancing popular dances to that all-pervading tal- 
isman of Spanish pleasure, the guitai*. 

The count's gifted little daughter was as usual 
the life and delight of the assemblage, and I was 
more than ever struck with her aptness and won- 
derful versatility. She took a part in two or three 
scenes of elegant comedy with some of her com- 
panions, and performed them with exquisite point 
and finished grace ; she gave imitations of the 
popukr Italian singers, some serious, some comic, 



EN CHAN TM EN T-H UN TING. 409 

with a rare quality of voice, and, I was assured, 
with siiigLihir fidehty ; she imitated the dialects, 
dances, ballads, and movements and manners of 
the gypsies and the peasants of the Vega with 
equal felicity ; but everything M^as done with an 
all-pervading grace and a ladylike tact perfectly 
fiiscinating. 

The great charm of everything she did was 
its freedom from pretension or ambitious display, 
its happy spontaneity. Everything sprang from 
the impulse of the moment ; or was in prompt 
compliance 'with a request. She seemed uncon 
scions of the rarity and extent of her own talent, 
and was like a child at home revelling in the 
buoyancy of its own gay and innocent spirits. 
Indeed I was told she had never exerted her 
talents in general society, but only, as at present, 
in the domestic circle. 

Her faculty of observation and her perception 
of character must have been remarkably quick, 
for she could have had only casual and transient 
glances at the scenes, manners, and customs de 
picted with such truth and spirit. " Indeed it 
is a continual wonder to us," said the countess, 
" where the child [la Nina] has picked up these 
things, her life being passed almost entirely at 
home, in the bosom of the flimily." 

Evening approached ; twilight began to throw 
its shadows about the halls, and the bats to steal 
forth from their lurking-place and flit about. A 
notion seized the little damsel and some of her 
youthtiil companions, to set out, under the guid- 
ance of Dolores, and explore the less frequented 



410 TFIE VAULTED PASSAGE. 

parts of the palace in quest of mysteries and eu- 
chantments. Thus conducted, they peeped fear- 
fully into the gloomy old mosque, but quick drew 
back on beiurr told that a Moorish kiuiz: had been 
murdered theie ; they ventured into the mysteri- 
ous regions of the bath, frightening themselves 
with the sounds and nmrmurs of hidden aque- 
ducts, and flying with mock panic at the alarm of 
phantom Moors. They then undertook the ad- 
venture of the Iron Gate, a place of baleful not(> 
in the Alhambra. It is a postern gate, opening 
into a dark ravine ; a narrow covered way leads 
down to it, which used to be the terror of Dolores 
and her playmates in childhood, as it was said 
a hand without a body would sometimes be 
stretched out fi'om the wall and seize hold of the 
passers-by. 

The little party of enchantment-hunters ven- 
tured to the entrance of the covered way, but 
nothing would tempt them to enter, in this hour 
of gathering gloom ; they dreaded the grasp of 
the phantom arm. 

At length they came running back into the 
Hall of Ambassadors in a mock paroxysm of 
terror: they had positively seen two spectral 
figures all in white. They had not stopped to 
examine them ; but could not be mistaken, for 
they glared distinctly through the surrounding 
gloom. Dolores soon arrived and explained the 
mystery. The spectres proved to be two statues 
of nymphs in white marble, placed at the en- 
trance of a vaulted passage. Upon this a grave, 
but, as I thought, somewhat sly old gentleman 



THE TWO STATUES. 411 

present, who, I believe, was the count's advocate 
or legal adviser, assured tliem that these statues 
were connected witli one of the greatest mysteries 
of the Alhainbra ; tliat there was a curious his- 
toiy concei'ning them, and, moreover, that they 
stood a living monument in marble of female 
seci'ecy and discretion. All present entreated 
him to tell the history of the statues. He tx)k a 
little time to recollect the details, and then gave 
them in substance the following legend 






LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET 
STATUES. 

HERE lived once in a waste apartment 
of the Alhambra a merry little fellow, 
named Lope Sanchez, who worked in 
the gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a 
grasshopper, singing all day long. He was the 
life and soul of the fortress ; when his work was 
over, he would sit on one of the stone benches of 
the esplanade, strum his guitar, and sing long 
ditties about the Cid, and Bernardo del Carpio, 
and Fernando del Pulgar, and other Spanish 
heroes, for the amusement of the old soldiers of 
the fortress ; or would strike up a merrier tune, 
and set the gii'ls dancing boleros and fandangos. 
Like most little men. Lope Sanchez had a 
strapping buxom dame for a wife, who could al- 
most have put him in her'pocket ; but he lacked 
the usual poor man's lot — instead of ten children 
he had but one/ This was a little black-eyed 
girl about twelve years of age, named Sanchica, 
who was as merry as himself, and the delight of 
tiis heart. She played about him as he worked 
in the gardens, danced to his guitar as he sat in 
the shade, and ran as wild as a young fawn about 



rnE JET HAND. 413 

the groves and alleys and ruined halls of the 
Alliarabra. 

It was iioAv tlie eve of the blessed St. John , 
and the holiday-lovinG^ gossips of the Alhambra, 
men, women, and children, went up at night to 
the Mountain of the Sun, which rises above the 
Generalife, to keep their midsummer vigil on its 
level summit. It was a bright moonlight night, 
and all the mountains were gray and silvery, and 
the city, with its domes and spires, lay in shad- 
ows below, and the Vega was like a fairy land, 
with haunted streams gleaming among its dusky 
groves. On the highest part of the mountain 
they lit up a bonfire, according to an old custom 
of the country handed down from the Moors. 
The inhabitants of the surrounding country were 
keeping a similar vigil, and bonfires, here and 
there in the Vega, and along the folds of the 
mountains, blazed up palely in the moonlight. 

The evening was gayly passed in dancing to 
the guitar of Lope Sanchez, who was never so 
joyous as when on a holiday revel of the kind. 
While the dance was going on, the little San- 
chica with some of her playmates sported among 
the ruins of an old INIoovish fort that crowns the 
mountain, when, in gathering pebbles in the fosse, 
she found a small hand curiously carved of jet, 
the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly clasped 
upon them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, 
she ran to her mother with her prize. It imme- 
diately became a subject of sage speculation, and 
was eyed by some with superstitious distrust. 
Throw it away," said one; "it's Moorish, — 



414 THE BLACK PIT. 

depend upon it, there's mischief and witchcraft in 
it." " By no means," said another ; " you may 
sell it for something to the jewellers of the Za- 
catin." In the midst of this discussion an old 
taAvny soldier drew near, who luid served in 
Africa, and was as swartliy as a Moor. He ex- 
amined the hand with a knowing look. " I have 
seen things of this kind," said he, " among the 
Moors of Barbary. It is a great virtue to guard 
against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and 
enchantments. I give you joy, fiiend Lope, this 
bodes good luck to your child." 

Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez 
tied the little hand of jet to a ribbon, and hung 
it round the neck of her daughter. 

The sight of this talisman called up all the 
favorite superstitions about the Moors. The 
dance was neglected, and they sat in groups on 
the ground, telling old legendary tales handed 
down from their ancestors. Some of their stories 
turned upyn the wonders of the very mountain 
upon which they were seated, which is a famous 
hobjxoblin re2;ion. One ancient crone jjave a Ions: 
account of the subterranean palace in the bowels 
of that mountain where Boabdil and all his Mos- 
lem court are said to remain enchanted. " Among 
yonder ruins," said she, pointing to some crum- 
bling walls and mounds of earth on a distant part 
of the mountain, '* there is a deep black pit that 
goes down, down into the very heart of the moun- 
tain. For all the money in Granada I would 
not look down uito it. Once upon a time a poor 
man of the Alhambra, who tended goats upon 



THE BLACK PIT. 415 

this monntain, scrnmhled down into that pit after 
a kid that had fallen in. He came ont again all 
wild and staring, and told such things of what he 
had seen, that every one thought his brain was 
turned. He raved for a day or two about the 
hobgoblin JVIoors tliat had pursued liim in the 
cavern, and could hardly be persuaded to drive 
his goats np again to the monntain. He did so 
at last, but, poor man, he never came down again. 
The neighbors found his goats browsing about the 
JNIoorish ruins, and his hat and mantle lyiug near 
the mouth of the pit, but he was never more 
heard of" 

The little Sanchica listened with breathless 
attention to this story. Slie was of a curious 
nature, and felt immediately a great hankering 
to peep into this dangerous pit. Stealing away 
from her companions, she sought the distant ruins.- 
and, after groping for some time among them, came 
to a small hollow, or basin, near the brow of the 
mountain, where it swept steeply down into the 
valley of the Darro. In the centre of this basin 
yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica ventured 
to the verge, and peeped in. *A11 was as black as 
pitch, and gave an idea of immeasurable depth. 
Her blood ran cold ; she drew back, then peeped 
in again, then would have run away, then took 
another peep, — the very horror of the thing was 
delightful to her. At length she rolled a large 
stone, and pushed it over the brink. For some 
time it fell in silence ; then struck some rocky 
projection with a violent crash ; then rebounded 
trom side to side, rumbling and tumbling, with 



416 THE BLACK PIT. 

a noise like thunder; then made a final splash 
into water, far, far below, — and all was again 
silent. 

The silence, however, did not long continue. 
It seemed as if something had been awakened 
within this dreary abyss. A murmuring sound 
gradually rose out of the pit like the hum and 
buzz of a beehive. It grew louder and louder ; 
there was the confusion of voices as of a distant 
multitude, together with the faint din of arms, 
clash of cymbals and clangor of trumpets, as if 
some army were marshalling for battle in the very 
bowels of the monntain. 

The child drew off with silent awe, and hast- 
ened back to the place where she had left her par- 
ents and their companions. All were gone. The 
bonfire was expiring, and its last wreath of smoke 
curling up in the moonshine. The distant fires 
that had blazed along tlie mountains and in the 
Vega were all extinguished, and everything 
seemed to have sunk to repose. Sanchica called 
her parents and some of her companions by name, 
but received no reply. She ran down the side 
of the mountain, anrt by the gardens of the Gen- 
eralife, until she arrived in the alley of trees lead- 
ing to the Alhambra, when she seated herself on 
a bench of a woody recess, to recover breath. 
The bell from the watcli-tower of the Alhambra 
tolled midnight. There was a deep tranquillity. 
as if all nature slept ; excepting the low tinkling 
sound of an unseen stivam that ran under the 
?overt of the bushes. The breathing sweetness 
' ' the atmosphere was lulling her to sleep, when 



THE PHANTOM PAGEANT. 417 

her eye was caught by sometliiug glittering at a 
distance, and to her surprise she beheld a long 
cavalcade of Moorish warrioi-s pouring down the 
mountain-side and along the leafy avenues. Some 
were armed with lances and shields ; others, with 
cimeters and battle-axes, and with polished cui- 
rasses that flashed in the moonbeams. Their horses 
pranced proudly and champed u})on their bits, but 
their tramp caused no more sound than if they had 
been shod witli felt, and the riders were all as pale 
as death. Among them rode a beautiful lady, with 
a crowned head and long golden locks entwined 
with pearls. The housings of her palfrey were 
of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and 
swept the earth ; but she rode all disconsolate, 
with eyes ever fixed upon the ground. 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnifi- 
cently arrayed in robes and turbans of divers 
colors, and amidst them, on a cream-colored char- 
ger, rode king Boabdil el Chico, in a royal man- 
tle covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling 
with diamonds. The little Sanchica knew him 
by his yellow beard, and his resemblance to his 
portrait, which she had often seen in the picture- 
gallery of the Generalife. Slie gazed in wonder 
and admiration at this royal pageant, as it passed 
glistening among the trees ; but though she knew 
these monarchs and courtiers and warriors, so 
pale and silent, were out of the common course 
of nature, and things of magic and enchantment, 
yet she looked on with a bold heart, such cour- 
age did she «lerive from tlie mystic talisman of 
the hand, which was suspended about her neck. 
27 



418 TFIF. SUBTFJiRASEAN HALL. 

The cavalcade having passed by, sue rose and 
followed. It continued on to the great Gate of 
Justice, which stood wide open ; the old invalid 
sentinels on duty lay on the stone benches of the 
barbican, buried in profound and apparently 
cli armed sleep, and the phantom pageant swept 
noiselessly by them with flaunting banner and 
triumphant state. Sanchica would have followed ; 
but to her surprise slie beheld an opening in the 
earth, within the barbican, leading down beneath 
the foundations of the tower. She entered for a 
little distance, and was encouraged to proceed by 
finding steps rudely hewn in the rock, and a 
vaulted passage here and there lit up by a silver 
lamp, which, while it gave light, diffused likewise 
a grateful fragrance. Venturing on, she came 
at last to a great hall, wrought out of the heart 
of the mountain, magniiicently furnished in tlie 
Moorish style, and lighted up by silver and 
crystal lamps. Here, on an ottoman, sat an old 
man in Moorish dress, with a long white beard, 
nodding and dozing, with a staff in his hand, 
which seemed ever to be slipping from his grasp ; 
while at a little distance sat a beautiful lady, in 
ancient Spanish dress, with a coronet all spark- 
ling with diamonds, and her hair entwined with 
j^earls, who was softly playing on a silver lyre. 
The little Sanchica now recollected a story she 
had heard among tlie old people of the Alham- 
bra, concerning a Gotliic princess confined in the 
centre of the mountain by an old Arabian magi- 
cian, whom she kept bound up in magic sleep ^ J 
the power of music 



THE ENCHANTED MAGICIAN. 419 

The lady paused witii sur])ri?e at seeing a 
mortal in that enchanted halL " Is it the eve 
of the blessed St. John ? " said she. 

" It is," replied Sanchica. 

" Then for one night tlie magic charm is sus- 
pended. Come hither, child, and fear not. I 
am a Christian like thyself, though bound here 
by enchantment. Touch my fetters with the 
talisman that hangs about thy neck, and for this 
night I shall be free." 

So saying, she opened her robes and displayed 
a broad golden band round her waist, and a 
golden chain that fastened her to the ground. 
The child iiesitated not to apply the little hand 
of jet to the golden band, and immediately the 
chain fell to the earth. At the sound the old 
man woke (uiil began to rub his eyes ; but the 
lady ran her fingers over the chords of the lyre, 
and again he fell into a slumber and beo:an to 
nod, and his staff to falter in his hand. " Now," 
said the lady, " touch his staff with the talis- 
manic hand of jet." The child did so, and it fell 
from his grasp, and he sank in a deep sleep on 
the ottoman. The lady gently laid the silver 
lyre on the ottoman, leaning it against the head 
of the sleeping magician ; then touching the 
chords until they vibrated in his ear, — " O 
j-)otent spirit of harmony," said she, " continue 
thus to hold his senses in thraldom till the retiu'n 
tf day. Now follow me, my child," continued 
fehe, " and thou shait behold the Alhambra as it 
was in the days of its glory, for thou hast p 
Qiagic talisman that reveals all enchantments.' 



420 SHADOWY GRANDEUR. 

Sanchica followed the lady in silence. They 
passed up through the enti'ance of the cavern 
into the barbican of the Gate of Justice, and 
thence to the Plaza de los Algibes, or esplanade 
witln'n the fortress. 

This was all filled with Moorish soldiery, 
horse and foot, marshalled in squadrons, with 
banners displayed. There were royal guards 
also at the portal, and rows of African blacks 
with di'awn ci meters. No one spoke a word, 
and Sanchica passed on fearlessly after her con- 
ductor. Her astonishment increased on entering 
the royal palace, in which she had been reared. 
The bi'oad moonshine lit up all the halls and 
courts and gardens almost as brii2;htlv as if it 
were day, but revealed a far different scene from 
that to which she was accustomed. The walls' 
of the apartments were no longer stained and 
rent by time. Instead of cobwebs, they were 
noAV hung with rich silks of Damascus, and the 
gildings and arabesque paintings were restored 
to their original brilliancy and freshness. The 
halls, no longer naked and unfurnished, were set 
out with divans and ottomans of the rarest 
stufis, embroidered with pearls and studded with 
precious gems, and all the fountains in the courts 
and gardens were playing. 

The kitcliens were again in full operation r 
cooks were busy preparing shadowy dishes, and 
roasting and boiling the phantoms of pullets and 
partridges ; servants were hurrying to and frc 
with silver dishes heaped up with dainties, and 
arranging a delicious banquet. The Court of 



THE STATUES. 421 

Lions was tlironged with guards, and courtiei'3, 
and alfaquis, as in the old times of the Moors ; 
and at the upper end, in the saloon of judgment, 
sat Boabdil on his tlirone, surrounded by hi3 
court, and swaying a shadowy sceptre for the 
night. Notwithstanding all this throng and seem- 
ing bustle, not a voice nor a footstep was to bt 
heard ; nothing interrupted the midnight silence 
but the splashing of the fountains. The little** 
Sanchica followed her conductress in mute amaze- 
ment about the palace, until they came to a portal 
opening to the vaulted passages beneath the great 
tower of Comares. On each side of the portal 
sat the figure of a nymph, wrought out of ala- 
baster. Their heads were turned aside, and their 
regards fixed upon the same spot within the 
vault. The enchanted lady paused, and beck- 
oned the child to her. " Here," said she, " is a 
great secret, Avhich I will reveal to thee in yQt 
ward for thy faith and courage. These discreet 
statues watch over a treasure liidden in old times 
by a Moorish king. Tell thy father to search 
the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and he 
will find wiiat will make him richer than any 
man in Granada. Thy innocent hands alone, 
however, gifted as thou art also with the talis- 
man, can remove the treasure. Bid tliy father 
use it discreetly, and devote a part of it to the 
performance of daily masses for my deliverance 
from this unholy enchantment." 

When tlie lady had spoken these word:*, she 
led the child onward to the little garden ot Lin- 
iaraxa, which is luu'd by the vault of the statues 



422 THE MYRTLE V/REATH. 

The moon trembled upon tlie waters of the soli- 
tuy fountain in the centre of tlie garden, and 
shed a tender light upon the orange and citrop 
trees. The beautiful lady plucked a branch of 
myrtle and wreathed it round the head of the 
child. " Let this be a memento," said she, " of 
what I have revealed to thee, and a testimonial 
of its truth. jNIy hour is come; I must return 
^o the enchanted hall ; follow me not, lest evil 
befall thee ; — farewell. Remember what I have 
said, and have masses performed for my deliver- 
ance." So saying, the lady entered a dark pas- 
sage leading beneath the tower of Coraares, and 
was no longer seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard 
from the cottages below the Alhambra, in the 
valley of the Darro, and a pale streak of light 
began to appear above the eastern mountains. 
A slight wind arose, there was a sound like the 
rustling of dry leaves through tlie courts and 
corridors, and door after door shut to with a jar- 
ring sound. 

Sanchica returned to the scenes she had so 
lately beheld thronged with the shadowy multi- 
tude, but Boabdil and his phantom court were 
gone. The moon shone into empty halls and 
galleries stripped of their transient splendor, 
stained and dilapidated by time, and hung with 
cobwebs. The bat flitted about in the uncertain 
light, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. 

Sanchica now made the best of her way to a 
remote staircase that led up to the humble apart- 
ment occupied by her family. The door as usual 



THE MYRTLE WHEAT H. 423 

was o])eii, for Lope Saneliez was too poor to iieea 
bolt or bar ; she eivpt (juietly to her pallet, and, 
putting the myrtle wreath beneath her pillow, 
soon fell asleep. 

In the morning slie related all th.at had befallen 
her to her father. Lope Sanchez, however, 
treated the whole as a mere dream, and laughed 
at (he child for her credidity. He went forth to 
his customary labors in the garden, but had noi* 
been there long when his little daughter came 
running to him cdmost breathless. '■' Father ! 
father ! " cried she, " behold the myrtle wreath 
which the Moorish lady bound round my head." 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for 
the stalk of the myrtle was of pure gold, and 
every leaf wjis a sparkling emerald ! Being not 
much accustomed to precious stones, he was igno- 
rant of the real value of the wreath, but he saw 
enough to convince him that it was something 
more substantial than the stulf of which dreams 
are generally made, and that at any rate the 
child had dreamt to some purpose. His fii-st care 
was to enjoin the most absolute seci'ecy upon his 
daughter ; in this respect, however, he was secure, 
for she had discretion far beyond her years or 
sex. He then repaiied to the vault, where stood 
the statues of the two alabaster nymphs. He 
remarked that their heads were turned from the 
portal, and that the regards of each were lixed 
upon the same point in the interior of the build- 
ing. Lope Sanchez could not but admire this 
most discreet contrivance for guarding a secret. 
Jle drew a line from the eves of the statues to 



i24 THE WELL-GUARDED SECRET. 

the point of regard, made a private mark on the 
wall, and then retired. 

All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchea 
was distracted with a thousand cares. He could 
not help hovering within distant view of the two 
statues, and became nervous from the dread that 
the golden secret might be discovered. Every 
footstep that approached the place made him trem- 
ble. He would have given anything could he 
but have turned the heads of the statues, forget- 
ting that they had looked precisely in the same 
direction for some hundreds of years, without any 
person being the wiser. 

" A plague upon them," he would say to him- 
self, " they '11 betray all ; did ever mortal hear 
of such a niijde of guarding a secret ? " Then on 
hearing any one advance, he would steal off, as 
though his very lurking near the place would 
awaken suspicion. Then he would return cau- 
tiously, and peep from a distance to see if every- 
thing was secure, but the sight of the statues 
would again call forth his indignation. " Ay, there 
they stand," would he say, " always looking, and 
looking, and looking, just where they should not. 
Confound them ! they are just like all their sex ; 
if they have not tongues to tattle with, they '11 be 
sure to do it with their eyes." 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day 
drew to a close. The sound of footsteps was no 
longer heard in the echoing halls of the Alham- 
bra; the last stranger passed the threshold, tlie 
great portal was barred and bolted, and the bat 
and the frofj and the hootinix owl c^i'iiduullv re- 



THE MISERY OF WEALTH. 425 

Burned their nightly vocations in the deserted 
pahice. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, nntil the night 
was far advanced before lie ventured with his lit- 
tle daiigliter to the hall of the two nymphs. He 
found them looking as knowingly and mysteri- 
ously as ever at the secret place of deposit. "• By 
your leaves, gentle ladies," tiiought Lope Sanchez, 
as he passed between them, " I will relieve you 
from tliis charge that must have set so heavy in 
your minds for the last two or three centuries.'* 
He accordingly went to work at the part of 
the wall which he liad marked, and in a little 
while laid open a concealed recess, in which stood 
two great jars of porcelain. He attempted to 
draw them forth, but they were immovable, until 
touched by the innocent hand of his little daugli- 
ter. With her aid he dislodged them from their 
niche, and found, to his great joy, that they were 
filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled with 
jewels ajid precious stones. Before daylight he 
managed to convey them to his ciiamber, and left 
the two guardian statues with their eyes still 
fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a 
rich man ; but riches, as usual, brought a world 
of cares to which he had hitherto been a stranger. 
How was he to convey away his wealth with 
safety ? How w^as he even to enter upon the enjoy- 
ment of it without awakening suspicion ? Now, 
too, for the first time in his life tlie dread of robbers 
entered into his mind. He looked with terror at 
the insecurity of his habitation, and went to work 



426 A SPIRITUAL COLXSELLOR. 

to b.irricade the doors and windows ; yet after all 
his precautions he could not sleep soundly. His 
usual gayety was at an end, he had no longer a 
joke or a song for his neighbors, and, in short, 
became the most miserable animal in the Alham- 
bra. His old comrades remarked this alteration, 
pitied him heajtily, and began to desert him ; 
thinking he must be falling into want, and in 
danger of looking to them tor assistance. Little 
did they suspect that his only calamity was 
riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety, 
but then slie had ghostly comfort. AVe ought 
before this to have mentioned that Lope, being 
rather a light inconsiderate little man, his wife 
was accustomed, in all grave matters, to seek the 
counsel and ministry of her confessor Fray Simon, 
a sturdy, broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet- 
headed friar of the neighboring convent of San 
Francisco, who v/as hi fact the spiritual comforter 
of half the good wives of the neighborhood. He 
was moreover in great esteem among divers sis- 
terhoods of nuns ; who requited him for his 
ghostly services by frequent presents of those little 
dainties and knickknacks manufactured in con- 
vents, such as delicate confections, sweet biscuits, 
and bottles of spiced cordials, found to be marvel- 
ous restojatives after fiists and vigils. 

Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his func- 
tions. His oily skin glistened in the sunshine as 
he toiled up the hill of the Alhambra on a sultry 
day. Yet notwithstanding his sleek condition, 
the knotted rope round his waist showed the 



FIRST-FRUITS. 427 

austerity of liis self-discipline; tlie multitude 
doffed their caps to him as a mirror of l)iety, and 
even the dogs scented the odor of sanctity that 
exhaled from liis garments, and howled from their 
kennels as he passed. 

Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsel- 
lor of the comely wife of Lope Sanchez ; and as 
the father confessor is the domestic confidant of 
women in humble life in Spain, he was soon ac- 
quainted, in great secrecy, with the story of the 
hidden treasure. 

The friar opened his eyes and mouth, and 
crossed himself a dozen times at the news. Af- 
ter a moment's pause, " Daughter of my soul ! " 
said he, '' know tiiat thy husband has committed 
a double sin — a sin against botli state and 
church ! The treasure he liath thus seized upon 
for himself, being found in tlie royal domains, 
belongs of course to the crow n ; but being infidel 
wealth, rescued as it were from the very fangs 
of Satan, should be devoted to the cliurch. Still, 
however, tlie matter may be accommodated. Bring 
hither thy myrtle wreath." 

When the good father beheld it, his eyes 
twinkled more than ever with admiration of the 
size and beauty of the emeralds. "This," said 
he, " being the first-fruits of this discovery, should 
be dedicated to pious purposes. I will hang it 
up as a votive offering before the image of San 
Francisco in our chapel, and will earnestly j»ray 
to him, this very night, that your husband be 
permitted to remain in quiet possession of your 
tvealtli." 



(28 SAINTLY CLAIMS. 

Tlie ofood dame was delighted to make hes 
peace witli heaven at so cheap a rate, and the 
friar, putting the wreatli under his mantle, de- 
parted with saintly steps toward his convent. 

When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told 
him what had passed. He was excessively pro- 
voked, for he lacked his wife's devotion, and had 
for some time groaned in secret at the domestic 
visitations of the friar. " Woman," said he, 
" what hast thou done ? thou hast put everything 
at hazard by thy tattling." 

" What ! " cried the good woman, " would you 
forbid my disburdening my conscience to my con- 
fessor ? " 

'^ No, wife ! confess as many of your own sins 
as you please ; but as to this money-digging, it 
is a sin of my own, and my conscience is very 
easy under the weight of it." 

There was no use, however, in complaining ; 
the secret was told, and, like water spilled on the 
sand, was not again to be gathered. Their only 
chance Avas, that the friar would be discreet. 

The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, 
there was an humble knocking at the door, and 
Fray Simon entered with meek and demure coun- 
tenance. 

" Daughter," said he, " I have earnestly prayed 
to San Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. 
In the dead of the night the saint appeared to 
me in a dream, but with a frowning aspect. 
Why,' said he, ' dost thou pray to me to dis- 
pense with this treasui-e of the Gentiles, when 
thou seest the poverty of my chapel ? Go to 



SAINTLY CLAI}fS. 429 

the house of Lope 'Saiicliez, crave in my name 
a portion of the Moorish gold, to furnish two 
candlesticks for the main altar, and let him pos- 
sess the residue in peace.' " 

When the good woman heard of this vision, she 
crossed herself with awe, and going to the secret 
place whe3*e Lope had hid the treasure, she filled 
a great leathern purse with pieces of Moorish 
gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious monk 
bestowed upon her, in return, benedictions enough, 
if paid by Heaven, to enrich her race to the latest 
posterity ; then slipping the purse into the sleeve 
of his habit, he folded his hands upon his bi'east, 
and departed with an air of humble thankfulness. 

"When Lope Sancliez heard of this second do- 
nation to the church, he had wellnigh lost his 
senses. " Unfortunate man," cried he, '• what 
will become of me ? I shall be robbed by piece- 
meal ; I shall be ruined and brought to beg- 
gary!" 

It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife 
could pacify him, by reminding him of the count- 
less wealth that yet remained, and how consider- 
ate it was for San Francisco to rest contented 
with so small a portion. 

Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor 
relations to be provided for, not to mention some 
half-dozen sturdy bullet-headed orphan children 
and destitute foundlings that he had taken und(ir 
his care. He repeated his visits, therefore, from 
day to day, with solicitations on behalf of Saint 
Dorainick, Saint Andrew, Saint James, until poor 
Lop^ wiis driven to despair, and found that uu* 



43l) PRfCPARATfONS FOR FLIGHT, 

less lie got out of the reacli of this holy friar, he 
BhoLikl have to make peace-offerings to every saint 
in the calendar. He determined, therefore, tc 
pack up his remaining wealth, beat a secret re- 
treat in the night, and make olf to another part 
of the kingdom. 

Full of his project, he bought a stout mule 
for the purpose, and tethered it in a gloomy vault 
underneath the tower of the seven floors ; the 
very place whence the Belludo, or goblin horse, 
is said to issue forth at midnight, and scour the 
streets of Granada, pursued by a pack of hell- 
hounds. Lope Sanchez had little faith in the 
story, but availed himself of the dread occasioned 
by it, knowing that no one would be likely to 
pry into the subterranean stable of the phantom 
steed. He sent off his family in the course of 
the day, with orders to wait for him at a distant 
village of the Vega. As the night advanced, he 
conveyed his treasure to the vault under the 
toAver, and having loaded his mule, he led it 
forth, and cautiously descended the dusky avenue. 

Honest Lope had tiiken his measures with the 
utmost secrecy, imparting them to no one but the 
faithful Avife of his bosom. By some miraculous 
revelation, however, they became known to Fray 
Simon. The zealous friar beheld these infidel 
treasures on the point of sli])ping forever out of 
Ids grasp, and determined to have one more dash 
at them for the benefit of the charch and San 
IVancisco. Accordingly, when the bells had rung 
for animas, and all the Alhambra was quiet, he 
etole out of his convent, and descending through 



E ELL-HOUNDS. 431 

the Gate of Justice, concealed liimself among the 
thickets of roses and hiui-els that border the great 
avenue. Here he remained, counting: the quar 
ters of hours as they were sounded on tiie bell 
of the watch-tower, and h'stening to the dreary 
hootings of owls, and the distant barking of dogs 
from the gypsy caverns. 

At length he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, 
tlirongh the gloom of the overshading trees, 
imperfectly beheld a steed descending the avenue. 
The sturdy friar chuckled at the idea of the 
knowing turn he Avas about to sei've honest 
Lope. 

Tucking up the skirts of his habit, and wrig- 
gling like a cat watching a mouse, he waited 
until his [)rey was directly before him, when 
darting forth from his leafy covert, and putting 
one hand on the shoulder and the other on the 
crupper, he made a vault that would not have 
disgraced the most experienced master of equita- 
tion, and alighted well-forked astride the steed. 
"Ah ha!" said the sturdy friar, " we shall now 
see who best understands the game." He had 
scarce uttered the words when the mule began to 
kfck, and rear, and plunge, and then set off full 
speed down the hill. The friar attempted to 
check him, but in vain. He bounded from rock 
to rock, and bush to bush ; the friar's habit was 
torn to ribbons and fluttered in the wind, liis 
shaven poll received many a hard knock from 
the branches of the trees, and many a scratch 
from the brambles. To add to his terror and 
distress, he found a j)ack of seven hounds in full 



432 THE BEDEVILLED FRIAH. 

cry at his heels, and perceived, too late, that he 
was actually mounted upon the terrible Belludo ! 

Au'ay then tliey went, according to the ancient 
phrase, " pull devil, pull friar," down the great 
avenue, across the Plaza Nueva, along the Zaca- 
tin, around the Vivarrambla — never did hunts- 
man and hound make a more furious run, or 
more infernal uproar. In vain did the friar 
invoke every saint in the calendar, and the holy 
Virgin into the bargain ; every time he men- 
tioned a name of the kind it was like a fresh 
application of the spur, and made the Belludo 
bound as high as a house. Through the re- 
mainder of the night was the unlucky Fray 
Simon carried hither and thither, and whither he 
would not, until every bone in his body ached, 
and he suflered a loss of leather too grievous to 
be mentioned. At length the crowing of a cock 
gave the signal of I'eturning day. At the sound 
the goblin steed wlieeled about, and galloped 
back for his tower. Again he scoured the Vivar- 
rambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the 
avenue of fountains, the seven dogs yelling, and 
barking, and leaping up, and sna})ping at the 
heels of the terrified friar. Tlie first streak of 
day had just appeared as they reached the 
tower ; here the goblin steed kicked up his 
heels, sent the friar a summerset through the air, 
plunged into the dark vault followed by the 
infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded 
to the late deafening clamor. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon 
a holy friar ? A peasant going to his labors al 



THE BEDEVILLED FR/AR. 433 

early (l;i\vn fomid tlie unfortunate Fray Simon 
lying under m Hg-trce at the foot of the tower 
but so hi-uisud and bedevilled that he could 
neitliiM* spe.dv nor move. He was conveyed with 
all care and tenderness to his cell, and the story- 
went that lie had been waylaid and maltreated 
by I'obbers. A day or two elapsed before he 
j-ecovered the use of his limbs ; he consoled him- 
self, in the mean time, with the thoughts that 
tliough the mule with the treasure had escaped 
him, he had previously had some rare pickings 
at the infidel spoils. His first care on being 
nble to use his limbs, was to search beneath his 
pallet, where he had secreted the myrtle wTcath 
and the leathern pouches of gold extracted from 
the piety of dame Sanchez. What was his 
dismay at finding the wreath, in effect, but a 
withered branch of myrtle, and the leathern 
pouches filled with sand and gravel ! 

Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the 
discretion to hold his tongue, for to betray the 
secret might draw on him the ridicule of the 
public, and the punishment of his superior. It 
was not until manv years afterwards, on his 
death-bed, that he revealed to his confessor his 
nocturnal ride on the Belludo. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a 
long time after his disappearance from the Al- 
hambra. His memory was always cherished as 
that of a merry companion, though it was feared, 
from the care and melancholy observed in his 
conduct shortly before his mysterious departure, 
that poverty and distress had driven him to some 
28 



434 DON LOPE AND HIS FAMILY. 

extremity. Some years afterwards one of his 
old companions, an invalid soldier, being at 
Malaga, was knocked down and nearly rnn over 
by a coach and six. The carriage stopped ; an 
old gentleman, magnificently dressed, with a bag- 
wig and sword, stepped out to assist the poor 
invalid. What was the astonishment of the 
latter to behold in this grand cavalier his old 
fri3nd Lope Sanchez, who was actually celebrat- 
ing the marriage of his daughter Sanchica with 
one of the first grandees in the land. 

The carriage contained the bridal party. There 
was dame Sanchez, now grown as round as a 
barrel, and dressed out with feathers and jewels, 
and necklaces of pearls, and necklaces of dia- 
monds, and rings on every finger, altogether a 
finery of apparel that had not been seen since 
the days of Queen Sheba. The little Sanchica 
had now grown to be a woman, and for grace 
and beauty might have been mistaken for a 
duchess, if not a princess outright. The bride- 
groom sat beside her — rather a withered spindle- 
shanked little man, but this only proved him to 
be of the true-blue blood ; a legitimate Spanish 
grandee being rarely above three cubits in stat- 
ure. The match had been of the mother's 
laaking. 

Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest 
Lope. He kept his old comrade with him for 
several days ; feasted him like a king, took him 
to plays and bull-fights, and at length sent him 
away rejoicing, with a big bag of money ior 
himself, and another to be distributed among hii 
ancient messmates of the Alliambra. 



MONUMENTS OF FEMALE SECRECY. 435 

Lope always gave out that a rich brother had 
died in America and left liini heir to a copper 
mine ; but the shrewd gossips of the Alhambra 
insist that his wealth was all derived from his 
having discovered the secret guarded by the two 
marble nymphs of the Alhambra. It is remarked 
that these v^ry discreet statues continue, even 
unto the present day, with their eyes fixed most 
significantly on the same part of the Avail ; which 
leads many to suppose there is still some hidden 
treasure remaining there well worthy the atten- 
tion of the enterprising traveller. Though others, 
and particularly all female visitors, regard them 
with great com])lacency as lasting monuments of 
the fact that women can keep a secret. 



THE CRUSADE OF THE GRAND MASTER 
OF ALCANTARA. 




N the course of a morning's research 
among the old chronicles in the Li- 
brary of the University, I came npon a 
^little episode in the history of Granada, so 
strongly characteristic of the bigot zeal which 
sometimes inflamed the Christian enterprises 
against this splendid but devoted city, that I was 
tempted to draw it forth from the parchment- 
bound volume in which it lay entombed, and sub- 
mit it to the reader. 

In the year of redemption, 1394, there was a 
valiant and devout grand master of Alcantara, 
named Martin Yanez de Barbudo, who was in- 
flamed with a vehement desii-e to serve God and 
fight the Moors. Unfortunately for this brave 
and pious cavalier, a profound peace existed be- 
tween the Christian and Moslem powers. Hen- 
ry II L liad just ascended the tlu'one of Castile, 
and Yusef ben ISIohammed had succeeded to 
the throne of Granada, and both were disposed 
to contiiuie the peace which had prevailed be- 
tween their fathers. The grand master looked 
with repining at Moorish banners and weapons, 
which decorated liis castle-hall, trophies of the 



THE ZEALOT. 4iJ7 

exploits of his predecessors ; and repined at his 
fate to exist in a period of such inglorious ti-an- 
quillity. 

At length his impatience broke tin-ough all 
bounds, and seeing that he could find no public 
war in which to engage, he resolved to carve out 
a little war for himself. Such at least is the ac- 
count given by some ancient chronicles, though 
others give the following as the motive for this 
sudden resolution to go campaigning. 

As the grand master was one day seated at 
table with several of his cavaliers, a man sud- 
denly entered the hall, — tall, meagre, and bony, 
with haggard countenance and fiery eye. All 
recognized him for a hermit, who had been a 
soldier in his youth, but now led a life of peni- 
tence in a cave. He advanced to the table and 
struck upon it with a fist that seemed of iron. 
" Cavaliers," said he, " why sit ye here idly, with 
your weapons resting against the wall, while the 
enemies of the faith lord it over the fairest por- 
tion of the land ? " 

*' Holy father, what wouldst thou have us do," 
asked the grand master, " seeing the wars are 
over and our swords bound up by treaties of 
peace ? " 

'' Listen to my words," replied the hermit. 
*' As I was seated late at night at the entrancfl 
■)f my cave, contemplating tlie heavens, I fell into 
a reverie, and a wonderi'ul vision was presented 
to me. I beheld the moon, a mere crescent, yet 
luminous as the brightest silver, and it hung in 
the heavens over the kiuirdom of Granada. 



438 THE AMBASSADORS. 

While I was looking at it, behold there shot 
forth from the firmament a blazing starj which, 
as it went, drew after it all tiie stars of heaven ; 
and they assailed the moon and drove it from the 
skies ; and the whole firmament was filled with 
the glory of that blazing star. AVhile mine eyes 
were yet dazzled by this wondrous sight, some 
one stood by me with snowy wings and a shining 
countenance. ' Oh man of prayer,' said he, 'get 
thee to the grand master of Alcantara and tell 
him of the vision thou hast beheld. He is the 
blazing star, destined to drive the crescent, the 
Moslem emblem, from the land. Let him boldly 
draw the sword and continue the good work be- 
gim by Pelazo of old, and victory will assuredly 
attend his banner.' " 

The grand master listened to the hermit as to 
a messenger from heaven, and followed his coun- 
sel in all things. By his advice he dispatched 
two of his stoutest warriors, armed cap-a-pie, on 
an embassy to the Moorish king. They entered 
the gates of Granada without molestation, as the 
nations were at peace ; and made their way to 
the Alhambra, where they were promptly ad- 
mitted to the king, who received them in the 
Hall of Ambassadors. They delivered their 
message roundly and hardly. " We come, C) 
King, from Don Martin Tanez de Barbudo, grajid 
master of Alcantara ; who affirms the faith of 
Jesus Christ to be ti-ue and holy, and that of 
Mahomet false and detestable, and he challenges 
thee to maintain the contrary, hand to hand, in 
eiiigle' combat. Shuuldst thou refuse, he oflfers to 



A PROMISED MIRACLE. 439 

combat with one hundred cavab'ers against two 
hundred ; or, in like proportion, to the number 
of* one thousand, always allowing thy faith a 
double number of champions. Remember, 
King, that thou canst not refuse this challenge ; 
since thy prophet, knowing the impossibility of 
maintaining his doctrines by argument, has com- 
manded his followers to enforce them with the 
Bword." 

The beard of king Yusef trembled with indig- 
nation. " Tlie master of Alcantara," said he, " is 
a madman to send such a message, and ye are 
saucy knaves to bring it." 

So saying, he ordered the ambassadors to be 
thrown into a dungeon, by way of giving them 
a lesson in diplomacy; and they were roughly 
treated on their way thither by the populace, who 
were exasperated at this insult to their sovereign 
and their faith. 

The grand master of Alcantara could scarcely 
credit the tidings of the maltreatment of his 
messengers ; but the hermit rejoiced when they 
were repeated to him. " God," said he, " has 
blinded this infidel king for his downfall. Since 
he has sent no reply to thy defiance, consider it 
accepted. Mai'shal thy forces, therefore ; march 
forward to Granada ; pause not until thou seest 
the irate of Elvira. A miracle will be wrought 
in thy favor. There will be a great battle ; tlie 
enemy will be overthrown ; but not one of thy 
soldiers will be slain." 

The grand master called upon every warrior 
Eealous in the Christian cause to aid him in this 



440 A MAX OF ONE IDEA. 

crusade. In a little while three hnnrlred horse 
men and a thousand foot-soldiers rallied under 
his standard. The hoi'senien were veterans, sea 
Boned to hattle and well armed ; bur the infan- 
try were raw and undisciplined. The victory, 
however, was to be miraculous ; the grand mas- 
ter was a man of surpassing faith, and knew that 
the weaker the means the greater the miracle. 
He sallied forth confidently, therefore, with his 
little army, and the hermit strode ahead, bearing 
a cross on the end of a long pole, and beneath it 
the pennon of the order of Alcantara. 

As they approached the city of Cordova they 
were overtaken by messengers, spurring in all 
haste, bearing missives from the Castilian mon- 
arch, forbidding the enterprise. The grand mas- 
ter was a man of a single mind and a single 
will ; in other words, a man of one idea. " Were 
I on any other errand," said he, " I should obey 
these letters as comii)g from my lord the king ; 
but I am sent by a higher power than the king. 
In compliance w^ith its commands I have ad- 
vanced the cross thus far against the infidels ; 
and it would be treason to the standard of 
Christ to turn back without achieving ray er- 
j-and." 

So the trumpets were sounded ; the cross was 
again reared aloft, and the band of zealots re- 
sumed their march. As they passed through the 
streets of Cordova the people were amazed at 
beholding a hermit bearing a cross at the head 
of a warlike multitude ; but when they learnt 
that a miraculous victory was to be effected and 



REM OXS TRA NCES. 441 

Ciranada destroyed, laborers and artisans threw 
by the hnplenients of their handicrafts and joined 
in the crusade ; while a mercenary rabble fol- 
lowed on with a view of plunder. 

A number of cavaliers of rank who lacked 
faitli in the promised miracle, and dreaded the 
consequences of this unprovoked irruption into 
the country of the Moor, assembled at the bridge 
of the Guadalquivir and endeavored to dissuade 
the grand master from crossing. He was deaf 
to prayers, expostulations, or menaces ; his fol- 
lowers were enraged at this opposition to the 
cause of the faith ; they put an end to the parley 
by their clamors ; the cross was again I'eared and 
borne triumphantly across tlie bridge. 

The multitude increased as it proceeded ; by 
the time the grand master had reached Alcala la 
R{!al, which stands on a mountain overlooking 
the Vega of Granada, upwards of five thousand 
men on foot had joined his standard. 

At Alcala came forth Alonzo Fernandez de 
Cordova, Lord of Aguilar, his brother Diego 
Fernandez, Marshal of Castile, and other cava- 
liers of valor and experience. Placing them- 
selves in the way of the grand master, " What 
madness is this, Don Martin ? " said they ; " the 
INIoorish king has two hundred thousand foot- 
soldiers and live thousand horse within his walls ; 
what can you and your handful of cavaliers and 
your noisy rabble do against such force ? Be- 
think you of the disasters which have befallen 
other Christian commanders, who have crossed 
these rocky borders with ten times your force. 



442 EXP OS T ULA Tl ONS. 

Think, too, of tlie mischief that will be biought 
upon this kingdom by an outrage of the khid 
committed by a man of your lank and impor- 
tance, a grand master of Alctintara. Pause, we 
entreat you, while the truce is yet unbroken. 
Await within the borders the reply of the kijis 
of Granada to your challenge. If he agree to 
meet you singly, or with champions two or tin^ee, 
it will be your individual contest, and light it out 
in God's name ; if he refuse, you may return 
home with great honor and the disgrace will fall 
upon the Moors." 

Several cavaliers, who had hitherto followed 
the grand master with devoted zeal, were moved 
by these expostulations, and suggested to him the 
policy of listening to this advice. 

" Cavaliers," said he, addressing himself to 
Alonzo Fernandez de Cordova and his compan- 
ions, " I thank you for the counsel you have so 
kindly bestowed upon me, and if I were merely 
in pursuit of individual glory I might be swayed 
by it. But I am engaged to achieve a great 
triumph of the faith, which God is to effect by 
miracle through my means. As to you, cava- 
liers," turning to those of his followers •who had 
wavered, " if your hearts fail you, or you repent 
of having put your hands to this good work, 
return, in God's name, and my blessing go with 
you. For myself, though I have none to stand 
by me but this holy hermit, yet will I assuredly 
proceed ; until 1 have planted this sacred stand 
nrd on tlie walls of Granada, or perished in the 
fttiempt." 



THE ATALAYA. 443 

" Don Martin Yunez de Barbndo," replied the 
cavaliers, "■ we are not men to turn our backs 
upon our commander, liowever rash his enter- 
prise. We spoke but in caution. Lead on, 
rherefbre, and if it be to the death, be assured to 
the death we will follow thee." 

By this time the common soldiers became nil- 
patient. " Forward ! forward ! " shouted they, 
" Forward in the cause of faith." So the grand 
master gave signal, the hermit again reared tho 
cross aloft, and they poured down a defile of the 
mountain, with solemn chants of triumph. 

That night they encamped at the river of 
Azores, and the next morning, which was Sun- 
day, crossed the borders. Their first pause was 
at an atalaya or solitary tower, built upon a 
rock ; a frontier post to keep a watch upon the 
border, and give notice of invasion. It was 
thence called el Torre del Exea (the tower of 
the spy). The grand master halted before it 
and summoned its petty garrison to surrender. 
He was answered by a shower of stones and 
arrows, which wounded him in the hand and 
killed three of his men. 

" How is this, father ? " said he to the hermit ; 
" you assured me that not one of my followers 
would be slain ! " 

" True, my son ; but I meant in the gi'cat 
battle of the infidel king ; what need is there of 
miracle to aid in the capture of a petty tower ? 

The grand master was satisfied. He ordered 
wood to be piled against tlie door of the tower 
to burn it down. In the mean time provisions 



444 ' THE BATTLE. 

were unloaded from the sumpter-mules, and the 
crusaders, withdrawing beyond bow-shot, sat 
doAvii on the grass to a repast to strengthen 
them for the arduous day's work before them. 
While thus engaged, they were startled by the 
sudden appearance of a great Moorish host. 
The atalayas had given the alarm by fire and 
smoke from the mountain-tops of " an enemy 
across the border," and the king of Granada had 
sallied forth with a great force to the encounter. 

The crusaders, nearly taken by surprise, flew 
to arms and prepared for battle. The grand 
master ordered his three hundred horsemen to 
dismount and fight on foot in support of the in- 
fantry. The Moors, however, charged so sud- 
denly that they separatedvthe cavaliers from the 
foot-soldiers and prevented their uniting. The 
grand master gave the old war-cry, " Santiago ! 
Santiago ! and close Spain ! " He and his knights 
breasted the fury of the battle, but were sur- 
rounded by a countless host and assailed with 
arrows, stones, darts, and arquebuses. Still they 
fought fearlessly, and made prodigious slaugliter. 
The hermit mingled in the hottest of the fight. 
In one hand he bore the cross, in the other he 
brandished a sword, with which he dealt about 
him like a maniac, slaying several of the enemy, 
until he sank to the groimd covered with wounds. 
The grand master saw him fall, and saw too late 
the fallacy of his prophecies. Despair, however, 
only made him fight the more fiercely, until he also 
fell overpowered by numbers. His devoted cava- 
liers emulated his holy zeaL Not one turned his 



THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. 445 

back nor asked for mercy ; all fought until they 
fell. As to the foot-sokliers, many were killed, 
many taken prisoners ; the residue escaped to 
Alcala la Real. When the Moors came to strip 
the slain, the wounds of the cavaliers were all 
found to be in front. 

Such was the catastrophe of this fanatic enter- 
prise. The Moors vaunted it as a decisive proof 
of the superior sanctity of their faith, and ex- 
tolled their king to the skies when he returned in 
triumph to Granada. 

As it was satisfactorily shown that this crusade 
was the enterprise oT an individual, and contrary 
to the express orders of the king of Castile, tlie 
peace of the two kingdoms was not interrupted. 
Nay, the Moors evinced a feeling of respect for 
the valor of the unfortunate grand master, and 
readily gave up his body to Don Alonzo Fernan- 
dez de Cordova, who came from Alcala to seek 
it. The Christians of the frontier united in pay- 
ing the last sad honors to his memory. His body 
was placed upon a bier, covered with the pennon 
of the order of Alcantara ; and the broken cross, 
the emblem of his confident hopea and fatal dis- 
appointment, was borne before it. In this way 
his remains were carried back in funeral proces- 
sion, through the mountain tract which he had 
travca-sed so resolutely. AVherever it passed, 
through a town or village, the populace followed, 
with tears and lamentations, bewailing him as a 
valiant knight and a martyr to the faith. His 
body was interred in the chapel of the convent 
of Santa Maria de Almocovara, and on his sepul- 



446 THE EPITAPH. 

chre may still be seen engraven in quaint and 
antique Spanisli the following testimonial to his 
bravery : — 

HERE LIES ONE WUOSE HEART NEVER KNEW FEAR. 

'Aqui yaz aquel que par neiia cosa nunca eve pavor en sen 
corazon.) * 

• Torres. Hist. Ord. Alcantara. Cron. Enrique III., pot 
Pedro Lopez de Ayala. 




SPANISH ROMANCE. 




|N the latter part of my sojourn in the 
Alhambra, 1 made frequent descents 
into the Jesuit's Library of the Univer- 
sity ; and rehshed more and more the old Span- 
isli chronicles, which I found there bound in 
parchment. I delight in those quaint histories 
which treat of the times when the Moslems 
maintained a foothold in the Peninsula. AVith 
all their bigotry and occasional intolerance, they 
are full of noble acts and generous sentiments, 
and have a high, spicy, oriental flavor, not to be 
found in other records of the times, which were 
merely European. In fact, Spain, even at the 
present day, is a country apart ; severed in liis- 
tory, habits, manners, and modes of thinking, 
from all the rest of Europe. It is a romantic 
country ; but its romance has none of the senti- 
mentality of modern European romance ; it is 
chiefly derived from the brilliant regions of the 
East, and from the high-minded school of Sara- 
cenic chivalry. 

The Arab invasion and conquest brought a 
higher civilization, and a nobler style of think- 
ing, into Gothic Spain. The Arabs were a 
quick-witted, sagacious, proud-spirited, and poeti 



448 RIVAL COURTESIES. 

cal people, and were imbued with oriental science 
and literature. Wherever they established a 
seat of power, it became a rallyiug-place for the 
learned and ingenious ; and they softened and 
re lined the people whom they conquered. By 
degrees, occupancy seemed to give them an 
hereditiiry right to their foothold in the land ; 
they ceased to be looked upon as invaders, and 
wore regarded as rival neiglibors. The Penin- 
sula, broken up into a variety of states, both 
CIn-istian and Moslem, became, for centuries, a 
great campaigning-ground, where the art of war 
seemed to be the principal business of man, and 
was carried to the highest pitch of romantic 
chivalry. The original ground of hostility, a 
difference of faith, gradually lost its rancor. 
Neighboring states, of opposite creeds, were 
occasionally linked together in alliances, offensive 
and defensive ; so that the cross and crescent 
were to be seen side by side, fighting against 
some common enemy. In times of peace, too, 
the noble youth of either faith resorted to the 
same cities, Christian or Moslem, to school them- 
selves in military science. Even in the temporary 
truces of sanguinary wars, the warriors who had 
nicently striven together in the deadly conflicts 
of the field, laid aside their animosity, met at 
tournaments, jousts, and other military festivities, 
and exchanged the courtesies of gentle and ge-ii- 
erous spirits. Thus the opposite races became 
fn^qnently mingled together in peaceful inter- 
pourse, or if any rivalry took place, it was in 
those high courtesies and nobler acts, which be- 



SPANISH ROMANCE. 449 

speak the accomplished cavalier. Warriors, of 
opposite creeds, became ambitious of transcending 
each other in magnanimity as well as valor. 
Indeed, the chivalric virtues were refined upon 
to a degree sometimes fastidious and constrained, 
but at other times hiexpressibly noble and af- 
fecting. The annals of the times teem with 
illustrious instances of high-wrought courtesy, 
romantic generosity, lofty disinterestedness, and 
punctilious honor, that warm the very soul to 
read them. These have furnished themes for 
national plays and poems, or have been celebrated 
in those all-pervading ballads, which are as the 
life-breath of the people, and thus have continued 
to exercise an influence on the national character, 
which centuries of vicissitude and decline have 
not been able to destroy ; so that, with all their 
faults, and they are many, the Spaniards, even at 
tlie present day, are, on many points, the most 
high-minded and proud-spirited people of Eu- 
rope. It is true, the romance of feeling derived 
from the sources I have mentioned, has, like all 
other romance, its affectations and extremes. It 
renders tlie Spaniard at times pompous and 
grandiloquent ; prone to carry the " pundonor," 
or point of honor, beyond the bounds of sober 
sense and sound morality; disposed, in the midst 
of poverty, to affect the '' grande caballero," and 
to look down with sovereign disdain upon " arts 
mechanical," and all the gainful pursuits of ple- 
beian life ; but this very inflation of spirit, while 
it fills his brain with vapors, lifts him above a 
Uiousand meannesses ; and though it often keeps 



450 SPAN IS fl ROMANCE. 

• 
him in indigence, ever protects him from vul- 
garity. 

In the present day, when popuhir literature is 
running into the low levels of" lite, and luxuriat- 
ing on the vices and follies of mankind ; and 
when /he universal pursuit of gain is trampling 
down the early growth of poetic feeling, and 
wearing out tlie verdure of the soul, I question 
whether it would not be of service for the 
reader occasionally to turn to these record? of 
prouder times and loftier modes of thinking ; 
and to steep himself to the very lips in old 
Spanish romance. 

With these preliminary suggestions, the fi'uit 
of a morning's reading and rumination in the old 
Jesuit's Library of the University, I will give 
him a legend in point, drawn forth from one of 
tiie venfjrable chronicles alluded to. 




LEGEND OF DON IMUN^O SANCIIO DE 
HINOJOSA. 



^^^^^^N the cloisters of the ancient Benedic- 
r^ ^3i ^"■^^ convent of San Domingo, at Silos, 
[1^^^^ in Castile, are the mouldering yet inag- 
nificent monuments of the once powerful and 
chivalrous family of Hinojosa. Among these 
reclines the marhle figure of a kniglit, in com- 
plete armor, with the liands pressed together, as 
if in prayer. On one side of his tomb is sculp- 
tured in relief a band of Christian cavjdiers, 
capturing a cavalcade of male and female Moors ; 
on the other side, the same cavaliers are repre- 
sented kneeling before an altar. The tomb, like 
most of the neio^hborino; monuments, is almost 
in ruins, and the sculpture is nearly unintelli- 
gible, excepting to the keen eye of the antiquary. 
Tlie story comiecte<l with the sepulchre, how 
ever, is still preserved in the old Spanish chroni 
cles, and is to the following purport. 



In old times, sevei-al hundred years ago, there 
was a noble Castllian cavalier, named Don Munio 
Sancho de Hinojosa, lord of a border castle, which 
had stood the brunt of many a IMooi'ish foray. He 
haxi seventy horsemen as his household troops, all 



452 A MOORISH CAVALCADE. 

of the ancient Castilian proof; stark warriors, hard 
riders, and men of iron ; with these he scoured 
the Moorish hinds, and made his name terrible 
throughout the borders. His castle-hall was 
covered with banners, cimeters, and Moslem 
ijclms, the trophies of his prowess. Don Munio 
was, moreover, a keen huntsman ; and rejoiced 
in liounds of all kinds, steeds for the chase, and 
hawks for the towering sport of falconry. When 
not engaged in warfare his delight was to beat 
up the neighboring forests ; and scarcely ever 
did he ride forth without hound and horn, a 
boar-spear in his hand, or a hawk upon his fist, 
and an attendant train of huntsmen. 

His wife, Dona Maria Palacin, was of a gentle 
and timid nature, little fitted to be the spouse of 
so hardy and adventurous a knight ; and many a 
tear did the poor lady shed, when he sallied forth 
upon his daring enterprises, and many a prayer 
did she offer up for his safety. 

As this doughty cavalier was one day hunting, 
he stationed himself in a thicket, on the borders 
of a green glade of the forest, and dispersed his 
followers to rouse the game, and drive it toward 
his stand. He had not been here lonji, when a 
cavalcade of INIoors, of both sexes, came prank - 
ling over the forest-lawn. They were unarmed, 
and magnificently dressed in robes of tissue and 
embroidery, rich shawls of India, bracelets and 
anklets of gold, and jewels that sparkled in the 
6ur.. 

At the head of this gay cavalcade rode a 
youthful cavalier, superior to the rest in dignity 



THE CniVALROUS APPEAL. 453 

and loftiness of demeajior, and in splendor of 
attiie : beside him was a damsel, whose veil, 
blown aside by the breeze, displayed a face of 
surpassing beauty, and eyes cast down in maiden 
modesty, yet beaming with tenderness and joy. 

Don jMunio thanked his stars for sending him 
Buch a prize, and exulted at the thought of bear- 
ing lionie to his wite the glittering spoils of these 
infidels. Putting his hunting-horn to his lips,' he 
gave a blast that rung through the forest. His 
huntsmen came running from all quarters, and 
the astonished Moors were surrounded and made 
captives. 

The beautiful Moor wrung her hands in 
despair, and her female attendants uttered the 
most piercing cries. The young Moorish cava- 
lier alone retained self-possession. He inquired 
the name of the Christian knight who com- 
manded this troop of horsemen. When told 
that it was Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, his 
countenance lighted up. Approaching that cava- 
lier, and kissing his hand, " Don Munio Sancho," 
said he, " I liave heard of your fame as a true 
and valiant knight, terrible in arms, but schooled 
in the noble virtues of chivalry. Such do I 
trust to find you. In me you behold Abadil, son 
of a Moorish alcayde. I am on the way to cele- 
brate my nuptials with this lady ; chance has 
thrown us in your power, but I confide in your 
magnanimity. Take all our treasui'e and jewels ; 
iemand what ransom you think proper for our 
persons, but suffer us not to be insulted noi dis 
honored." 



454 SPANISH COURTESY. 

When the good knight heard this appeal, and 
beheld the beauty of the youthful pair, his heart 
was touched with tenderness and courtesy. " God 
foi'bid," said he, " that T should disturb such 
happy nuptials. INIy prisoners in troth shall ye 
be, for fifteen days, and immured within my 
castle, where I claim, as conqueror, the right of 
celebrating your espousals." 

So saying, he dispatched one of his fleetest 
horsemen in advance, to notify Dona Maria 
Palacin of the coming of this bridal party ; 
while he and his huntsmen escorted the caval- 
cade, not as captors, but as a guard of hono»-. 
As they drew near to the castle, the banners were 
hung out, and the /trumpets sounded from the 
battlements ; and on their nearer approach, the 
drawbridge was lowered, and Dona Maria came 
tbrth to meet them, attended by her ladies and 
knights, her pages and her minstrels. She took 
the young bride, Allifra, in her ai-ms, kissed her 
with the tenderness of a sister, and conducted 
her into the castle. In the mean time, Don 
Munio sent forth missives in every direction, and 
had viands and dainties of all kinds collected 
from the country round ; and the wedding of the 
Moorish lovers Avas celebrated with all possible 
state and festivity. For fifteen days the castle 
was given up to joy and revelry. There were 
tiltings and jousts at the ring, and bull-fights, 
and banquets, and dances to the sound of min- 
strelsy. When the fifteen days were at an end, 
he made the bride and bridegroom magnificent 
presents, and conducted them and their attend- 



THE FATAL COMBAT. 455 

Rnts safely beyond the borders. Such, in old 
times, were the courtesy and generosity of a 
Spanish cavalier. 

Several years after this event, the king of 
Castile summoned his nobles to assist him in a 
campaign against the Moors. Don Munio Sancho 
was among the first to answer to the call, with 
seventy horsemen, all stanch and well-tried war- 
riors. His wife, Dofia Maria, hung about his 
neck. " Alas, my lord ! " exclaimed she, " how 
often wilt thou tempt thy fate, and when will 
thy thirst for glory be appeased ! " 

" One battle more," replied Don Munio, " one 
battle more, for the honor of Castile, and I here 
make a vow, that when this is over, I will lay by 
my sword, and repair with my cavaliers in pil- 
grimage to the sepulchre of our Lord at Jeru- 
salem." The cavaliers all joined with him in 
the vow, and Dona IVIaria felt in some degree 
sootiied in spirit ; still, she saw with a heavy 
heart the departure of her husband, and watched 
his bamier with wistful eyes, until it disappeared 
among the trees of tiie forest. 

The king of Castile led his army to the plains 
of Almanara, where tliey encountered the Moor- 
isJi host, near to Ucles. The battle w^as long 
and bloody ; the Christians repeatedly wavered 
aiid were as often rallied by the energy of theii 
conunanders. Don Munio was covered with 
wounds, but refused to leave the field. The 
Christians at length gave way, and the king was 
hardly pressed, and in danger of being captui-ed. 

Don Munio calhnl upon his cavaliers to follow 



4-56 THE yfOURNrXG VICTOR. 

him to the rescue. " Now is tlie time," cried he, 
" to prove your loyalty. Fall to, like brave 
men ! We fight for the true faith, and if we 
lose our lives here, we gain a better life here- 
after." 

Rushino; with his men between the kins and 
his pursuers, they checked the latter in theii 
career, and gave time for their monarch to 
escape ; but they fell victims to their loyalty. 
They all fought to the last gasp. Don Munio 
was singled out by a powerful Moorish knight, 
but havino; been wounded in the riijht arm, he 
fought to disadvantage, and was slain. The 
battle being over, the Moor paused to possess 
liimself of the spoils of this redoubtable Christian 
warrior. When he unlaced the helmet, how- 
ever, and beheld the countenance of Don Munio, 
he gave a great cry and smote his breast. " Woe 
is me ! " cried he, " I have slain my benefactor ! 
The flower of knightly virtue ! the most mag- 
nanimous of cavaliers ! '* 

While the battle had been raging on the plain 
of Salmanara, Doiia Maria Palacin remained in 
her castle, a prey to the keenest anxiety. Her 
eyes were ever fixed on the road that led from 
the country of the Moors, and often she asked the 
watchman of the tower, " What seest thou ? " 

One evening, at tiie shadowy hour of twilight, 
I lie warden souTided his horn. " I see," cried he, 
" a numerous train winding up the valley. There 
are mingled Moors and Christians. The banner 
of my lord is in the advance. Joyful tidings ! ^' 



TnE MOURNING VICTOR. 457 

pxclaimod the old seneschal ; " my lord returna 
hi triumph, and brings captives ! " Then tho 
castle courts rang with shouts of joy ; and the 
standard was displayed, and the trumpets were 
sounded, and the draw-bridge was lowered, mid 
Dona Maria went forth witli her ladies, and her 
knights, and her pages, and her minstrels, to 
welcome her lord from the wars. But as the 
train drew nigh, she belield a sumptuous bier, 
covered with black velvet, and on it lay a war- 
rior, as if taking his repose : he lay in his armor, 
with his helmet on his head, and his sword in his 
hand, as one who had never been conquered, and 
around the bier were the escutcheons of the 
house of Hinojosa. 

A number of Moorish cavaliers attended the 
bier, with emblems of mourning, and with de- 
jected countenances ; and their leader cast him- 
Belf at the feet of Dona Maria, and hid his face 
in his hands. She beheld in him the gallant 
Abadil, whom she had once welcomed with . his 
bride to her castle ; but who now came with the 
body of her lord, whom he had unknowingly 
slain in battle ! 

The sepulchre erected in the cloisters of the 
convent of San Domingo, was achieved at the 
expense of the Moor Abadil, as a feeble testi- 
mony of his grief for the death of the good knight 
Don Mmiio, and his reverence for his memory. 
The tender and faithful Doila Maria soon fol- 
lowed her lord to the tomb. On one of the 
stones of a small arch, beside his sepulchre, is 



458 THE PHANTOM PILGRIMAGE. 

llie followino; simple inscription : '• Hie jacet 
Maria Palacin, uxor Munonis Sancij De FinO" 
josa ; " — Hei"e lies Maria Palacin, wife of Muiiio 
Sanclio de Hiiiojosa. 

The legend of Don Munio Sanclio does not 
conclude with his death. On the same day on 
which the battle took place on the plain of Sal- 
manara, a chaplain of the Holy Temple at Jeru- 
salem, while standing at the outer gate, beheld a 
train of Christian cavaliers advancing, as if in 
pilgrimage. The chaplain was a native of Spain, 
and as the pilgrims approached, he knew the 
foremost to be Don Munio Sanclio de Hinojosa, 
with whom he had been well acquainted in 
former times. Hastening to the patriarch, he 
told him of the honorable rank of the pilgrims 
at the gate. The patriarch, therefore, went 
forth with a grand procession of priests and 
monks, and received the pilgrims with all due 
honor. There were seventy cavaliers, beside 
thfciir leader, — all stark and lotty warriors. They 
carried their helmets in their hands, and their 
laces were deadly pale. Tliey greeted no one, 
nor looked either to the right or to the left, but 
entered the chapel, and kneeling before the sep- 
ulchre of our Saviour, performed their orisons 
in silence. When they had concluded, they rose 
as if to depart, and the patriarch and his attend- 
ants advanced to speak to them, but they were 
no more to be seen. Every one marvelled what 
could be the meaning of this prodigy. The 
patriarch carefully noted down the day, and sent 
to Castile to learu tidinirs of Don Munio Sancluf 



HISTORICAL VOUCHER. 459 

de llinojosa. He received for reply, that on the 
very day specilied, tliat wo]Mhy knight, with 
seventy of liis followers, had been slain in battle. 
These, therefore, mnst have been the blessed 
spirits of those Christian warriors, come to fullil 
their vow of pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre 
at Jerusalem. Such was Castilian faith in the 
olden time, which kept its word, even beyond the 
grave. 

If tuiy one should doubt of the miraculous 
apparition of these phantom knights, let him con- 
sult the History of the Kings of Castile and 
Leon, by the learned and pious Fi'ay Prudencio 
de Sandoval, bishop of Pamplona, where he will 
find it recorded in the History of King Don 
Alonzo VI., on the hundred and second page. 
It is too precious a legend to be lightly aban- 
doned to the doubter. 





POETS AND POETRY OF MOSLEM 
ANDALUS. 




URING the latter part of my sojourn iu 
the Alhambra I was more than once 
visited by the Moor of Tetiian, with 
whom I took great pleasure in rambling through 
the halls and courts, and getting him to explain 
to me the Arabic insci-iptions. He endeavored 
to do so faithfully ; but, though he succeeded in 
giving me the thought, he despaired of imparting 
an idea c^f the grace and beauty of the language. 
The aroma of the poetry, said he, is all lost in 
translation. Enough was imparted, however, to 
increase the stock of my delightful associations 
with this extraordinary pile. Perhaps there 
never was a monument more characteristic of an 
age and people than the Alhambra ; a rugged 
fortress without, a voluptuous palace within ; war 
frowning from its battlements ; poetry breathing 
thi-oughout the fairy arc])itecture of its halls. 
One is irresistibly transported in imagination to 
those times when Moslem Spaiii was a region of 
light amid Christian, yet benighted Enrope ; 
externally a warrior power fighting for exist- 
ence ; internally a realm devoted to literature, 
science, and the arts ; where philosophy was 



THE PRINCESS WALADA. 461 

cultivated with passion, though wrought up into 
Bubtleties and refinements ; and where the hix- 
uries of sense were transcended by those of 
thouo^ht and imagination. 

Arab poetry, we are told, arrived at its highest 
splendor under the Ommiades of Spain, who for 
a long time centred the power and splendor of 
the western Cahphat at Cordova. Most of the 
sovereigns of that brilliant line were themselves 
poets. One of the last of them was Mahomed 
ben Abderahman. He led the life of a sybarite 
in the famous palace and gardens of Azahara, 
surrounding himself with all that coidd excite 
the imagination and delight the senses. His 
palace was the resort of poets. His vizier, Ibn 
Zeydun, was called the Horace of Moslem Spain, 
from his exquisite verses, which were recited 
with enthusiasm even in the saloons of the East- 
ern Caliphs. The vizier became passionately 
enamored of the princess Walada, daughter of 
Mahomed. She was the idol of her father's 
court, a poetess of the highest order, and re- 
nowned for beauty as well as talent. If Ibn 
Zeydun was the Horace of Moslem Spain, she 
was its Sappho. The princess became the sub- 
ject of the vizier's most impassioned verses ; 
especially of a famous risaleh or epistle addressed 
to her, which the historian Ash-Shakandi de- 
clares has never been equalled for tenderness 
and melancholy. Whether the poet was happy 
in his love, the authors I have consulted do not 
Bay ; but one intimates that the princess was 
\liscreet as she was beautiful, and caused many a 



4G2 ENCOURAGEMENT UF LITERATURE. 

lover to si<z;li In vtiin. Iii fact, the reign of love 
and poetry in the delicious abode of Zahara, was 
soon brought to a close by a popular insurrection. 
Maht)nied with his family took refuge in the for- 
tress of Ucles, near Toledo, where he was treach- 
erously poisoned by the Alcayde ; and thus per- 
ished one ol* the last of the Oinmiades. 

Tiie downfall of that brilliant dynasty, which 
had concentrated everything at Cordova, was 
flivorable to the general literature of Morisco 
Spain. 

•' After the breaking of the necklace and the 
scattei-ing of its pearls," says Asli-Shakandi, 
" the kings of small states divided among them- 
Bclves the patrimony of the Beni Ommiah." 

They vied witli each other in filling their 
capitals with poets and learned men, and re- 
warded them with boundless prodigality. Such 
were the Moorish kings of Seville of the illus- 
trious line of the Beni Abbad, '' with whom,'' 
says the same writer, " resided fruit and palm- 
trees and pomegranates ; who became the centre 
of eloquence in prose and verse ; every day of 
Avhose reign was a solemn festivity ; whose his- 
tory abounds in generous actions and heroic 
deeds, that will last through surrounding ages 
and live forever in the memory of man ! " 

No place, however, profited more in point of 
civilization and refinement by the downfall of the 
Western Caliphat than Granada. It succeeded 
to Cordova in splendor, while it surpassed it in 
romantic beauty of situation. The amenity of 
its climate, where the ardent heats of a southerr 



AMATORY POETS. 463 

?iimni(,T were tempered by breezes from snoAv- 
clad mountains ; the vohiptnons repose of its 
valleys and the boi-ky Inxiiriance of its groves 
and gardens all awakened sensations of dijlight, 
und dispased the mind to love and poetry. Hence 
ihe great number of araatoi-y poets that flourished 
in Granada. Hence those amorous canticles 
breathing of love and war, and wreathing chiv- 
alrous grace round the stern exercise of arms. 
Those ballads which still form the pride; and de- 
light of Spanish literature are but the echoes of 
amatory and chivalric lays, which once delighted 
the Moslem courts of Andalus ; and in which a 
modern historian of Granada pretends to find the 
ongin of the j^ima Casfellana and the type of the 
" to^y science " of the troubadours.* 

Poetry was cultivated in Granada by both 
sexes. " Had Allah," says Ash-Shakandi, " be- 
stowed no other boon on Granada than that of 
making it the birthplace of so many poetesses ; 
that alone would be sufficient for its glory." 

Among the most famous of these was Hafsah ; 
renowned, says the old chronicler, for beauty, 
talents, nobility, and wealth. We have a mere 
relic of her poetry in some verses, addressed to 
her lover, Ahmed, recalling an evening passed 
together in the garden of JNIaumal. 

" Allah has given us a ha))py night, such as he 
never vouclial'es to the wicked and tlie ignoble. 
Vv'e have beheld the cypresses of JNIaumal 
gently bowing their heads before the mountain 
breeze, — the sweet pert'umed breeze that smelt 

* ^JiL;uel Lalucnte Alcantara. 



464 THE GARDEN OF MACMAL. 

of gill}'^0Nvers ; the dove murmured her love 
among the trees ; the sweet basil inclined its 
boughs to the limpid brook." 

The garden of Maumal was famous among 
the Moors for its rivulets, its fountains, its 
flowers, and above all, its cypresses. It had its 
name from a vizier of Abdallah, grandson of 
Aben Habuz, and Sultan of Granada. Under 
the administration of this vizier many of the 
noblest public works were executed. He con 
structed an aqueduct by which water was brought 
from the mountains of Alfacar to irrigate the 
hills and orchards north of the city. He planted 
a public walk with cypress-trees, and " made 
delicious gardens for the solace of the melan- 
choly Moors." " The name of Miamial," says 
Alcantara, " ought to be preserved in Granada 
in letters of gold." Perhaps it is as well pre- 
served by being associated with the garden he 
planted ; and by being mentioned in the verses 
of Ilafsah. How often does a casual word from 
a poet confer immortality ! 

Perhaps the reader may be curious to learn 
something of the stoi-y of Hafsah and her lover, 
thus connected with one of the beautiful locali- 
ties of Granada. The following are all the 
particulars I have been able to rescue out of the 
darkness and oblivion which have settled upon 
the brightest names and geniuses of Moslem 
Spain. 

Ahmed and Hafsah flourished in the sixth 
century of the Hegira ; the twelfth of the Chris- 
tian Era. Ahmed was the son of the Alcayde 



LOVL AND POETRY. 465 

^t' Alcala la Real. His father def^ignecl him for 
public and military life, and would have made 
him his lieutenant ; but the youth was of a 
poetical temperament, and preferred a life of 
lettered ease in the delightful abodes of Granada. 
Here he surronnded himself by objects of taste 
in the arts, and by the works of the learned ; he 
divided his time between study and social enjoy- 
ment. He was fond of the sports of the field, 
and kept horses, hawks, and hounds. He de- 
voted himself to literature, became renowned for 
erudition, and his compositions in prose and 
verse were extolled for their beauty, and in the 
mouths of QVi^vy one. 

Of a tender, susceptible heart, and extremely 
sensible to female charms, he became tlie devoted 
lover of Hafsah. The passion was mutual, and 
for once the course of true love appeared to run 
smooth. The lovers were both young, equal in 
merit, fame, rank, and fortune, enamored of each 
other's genius as well as person, and inhabiting 
a region formed to be a realm of love and poetry. 
A poetical intercourse was carried on between 
them that formed the delight of Granada. They 
were continually interchanging verses and epis- 
tles ; " the poetry of whicli," says the Arabian 
writer, Al Makkari, "was like the language of 
doves." 

In the height of their happiness a change took 
])lace in the government of Granada. It was 
the time when the Almohades, a Berber tribe of 
Movnit Atlas, had acquired the control of Moslem 
Spain, and removed the seat of government from 
30 



466 SID J ABU SAID. 

Cordova to Morocco. Tlie Sultan Abdelinuman 
governed Spain through his Walis and Alcaydes ; 
and his son, Sidi Abu Said, was made Wali of 
Granada. He governed in his father's name 
with royal state and splendor, and with despolio 
sway. Being a stranger in the country, and a 
IMoor bv birth, he sought to strenirthen hiniseif 
by drawing round him popular persons ot tlio 
Arab race ; and to this effect made Ahmed, who 
wius then in the zenith of his fame and popu- 
larity, his vizier. Ahmed Avould have declined 
the post, but the Wali was peremptory. Its 
duties were ii'ksome to him, and he spurned at 
its restraint. On a hawking-party, with some of 
his gay companions, he gave way to his poetir 
vein, exulting in his breaking away from the 
thraldom of a despotic master like a liawk from 
the jesses of the falconer, to follow the soaring 
impulses of his soul. 

His words were repeated to Sidi Abu Said. 
" Ahmed," said the informant, " spurns at re- 
straint and scoffs at thy authority." Tlie poet 
was instantly dismissed from ofhce. The loss of 
an irksome post was no grievance to one of his 
joyous temperament ; but he soon discovered the 
real cause of his removal. The AYali was his 
rival. He had seen and become enamored of 
Hafsah. AYhat was worse, Hafsah was dazzled 
with the conquest she had made. 

For a time Ahmeil treated the matter with 
ridicule ; and appealed to the prejudice existing 
between the Arab and Moorish races. Sidi Abu 
Said was (>f a dai'k olive complexion. •' How 



A POET L\ PR/soy. 467 

canst thou endure that l)lack man ? " said he, 
BcornfuUy. *' By Allali, for twenty dinars I can 
bay thee a better than he in the shive-market." 

The scoff reached the ears of Sidi Abu Sai(i 
and rankled in his lieart. 

At other times Ahmed gave way to grief and 
tenderness, recalling past scenes of happiness, 
reproaching Hafsah with her inconstancy, and 
warning her in despairing accents that slie would 
be the cause of his death. His words were 
unheeded. The idea of having the son of the 
Sultan for a lover had captivated the imagina- 
tion of the poetess. 

INIaddened by jealousy and despair, Ahmed 
joined in a conspiracy against the ruling dynasty. 
It w{is discovered, and the conspirators fled from 
Granada. Some escaped to a castle on the 
mountains, Ahmed took refuge in Malaga where 
he concealed himself, intending to embark for 
Valencia. He was discovered, loaded with 
chains, and thrown into a dungeon, to abide the 
decision of Sidi Abu Said. 

He was visited in prison by a nephew, who 
has left on record an account of the interv'^.w. 
The youth was moved to tears at seeing his 
illustrious relative, late so prosperous and hon- 
ored, fettered like a malefactor. 

" AVhy dost thou weep ? " said Ahmed. " Are 
these tears shed for me ? For me, who have 
«njoyed all that the world could give? Weep 
not for me. I have had ray share of happiness ; 
banqueted on the daintiest fare ; quaffed out of 
crystal cups ; slept on beds of down *, beian 



468 TARDY RJ-MORSK 

arrayed In the richest silks and brocades ; ridden 
the fleetest steeds ; enjoyed the loves of the 
fairest maidens. Weep not for me. My present 
reverse is but the inevitable course of fate. I 
liave committed acts which render pardon hope- 
less. I must await my punishment." 

His presentiment was correct. The ven- 
geance of Sidi Abu Said was only to be satisfied 
by the blood of his rival, and the unfortunate 
Ahmed was beheaded at Malaga, in the month 
Jumadi, in the year 559 of the Hegira (April, 
1164). When the news was brought to the 
fickle-hearted Hafash, she was struck with sor- 
row and remorse, and put on mourning ; recall- 
ing his waniiiig words, and reproaching herself 
with being the cause of his death. 

Of the after fortunes of Hafsah I have no 
further trace than that she died in Morocco, in 
1184, outliving both her lovers, for Sidi Abu 
Said died in JNIorocco of the plague in 1175. 
A memorial of his residence in Granada re- 
mained in a palace which he built on the banks 
of the Xenil. The garden of Maumal, the scene 
of the early lives of Ahmed and Hafsah, is no 
longer in existence. Its site may be found by 
the antiquary in poetical research.* 

* The authorities for the foregoing: Alcantara, Hist. Gra 
nada; Al Makkari, Hist. Mohamed; Dynasties in Spain, R. ii 
c. 3; Notes and illustrations of the same, by GaA-angos, Vol 
I. p 440; Ibnu Al Kahttib, Biograph. Die, cited by Gayan- 
gos; Coude Hist. Doni. Arab. 




AN EXPEDITION IN QUEST OF A 
DIPLOMA. 

NP^ of the most important occurrences 
in the domestic life of the Alhambra, 
was the departure of Manuel, the nephew 
of Dona Antonia, for Malaga, to stand examina- 
tion as a physician. I have already informed 
the reader that, on his success in obtaining a de- 
gree depended in a great measure the union and 
future fortunes of himself and his coiisin Dolo- 
res ; at least so I was privately informed by 
Mateo Ximenes, and various circumstances con- 
curred to corroborate his information. Their 
courtship, however, was carried on very quietly 
and discreetly, and I scarce think I should have 
discovered it, if I had not been put on the alert 
by the all-observant Mateo. 

In the present instance, Dolores was less on 
the reserve, and had busied herself for several 
days in fitting out honest Manuel for his expedi- 
tion. All his clothes had been arranged and 
packed in the neatest order, and above all sho 
had worked a smart Andalusian travelling-jacket 
for him with her own hands. On the morning 
appointed for his departure, a stout mule on 
jv^hich he was to perform the journey was par- 



470 FITTING OUT FOR A JOURNEY. 

aded at the portal of the Alhambra, and Tio 
Polo (Uncle Polo), an old invalid soldier, at- 
tended to caparison him. This veteran was one 
of the curiosities of the place. He had a leath- 
ern lantern visage, tanned in the tropics, a long 
Roman nose, and a black beetle eye. I had fi-e- 
quently observed him reading, apparently with 
intense interest, an old parchment-bound volume ; 
sometimes he would be surrounded by a group 
of his brother invalids ; some seated on the par- 
apets, some lying on the grass, listening with 
fixed attention, while he read slowly and deliber- 
ately out of his favorite work, sometimes pausing 
to explain or expound for the benefit of his less 
enlightened auditors. 

I took occasion one day to inform myself of 
this ancient book, which appeared to be his vade 
mecum, and found it to be an odd volume of the 
works of Padre Benito Geronymo Feyjoo ; and 
that one which treats about the Magic of wSpain, 
the mysterious caves of Salamanca and Toledo, 
the Purgatory of San Patricio (St. Patrick), and 
other mystic subjects of the kind. From that 
time 1 kept my eye upon the veteran. 

On the present occasion I amused myself 
with watching him fit out the steed of Manuel 
with all the forecast of an old campaigner. First 
he took a considerable time in adjusting to the 
back of the mule a cumbrous saddle of antique 
fashion, high in front and behind, with Moorish 
stirrups like shovels ; the whole looking like a 
relic of the old armory of the Alhambra ; then 
a fleecy sheep-skin was accommodated to thf* 



FAMILY TROUBLES. 471 

deep seat of the saddle ; then a maleta, neatly 
packed by the hand of Dolores, was buckled be- 
hind ; then a manta was thrown over it to serve 
either as cloak or couch ; then the all-important 
alforjas, carefLilly stocked with provant, were 
hung in front, together with the bota, or leathern 
bottle for either wine or water, and lastly the 
trabucho, whicli the old soldier slung behind, giv- 
ing it his benediction. It was like the fitting 
out in old times of a Moorish cavalier for a foray 
or a joust in the Vivarrambla. A number of 
the lazzaroni of the fortress had gathered round, 
witii some of the invalids, all looking on, all of- 
fering their aid, and all giving advice, to the 
great annoyance of Tio Polo. 

When all w^as ready Manuel took leave of 
the household ; Tio Polo held his stirrup while 
he mounted, adjusted the girths and saddle, and 
v^.heered him otF in military style ; then turning 
to Dolores, who stood admiring her cavalier as 
he trotted off, " Ah Dolorocita," exclaimed he, 
with a nod and a wink, " es muy guapo Manuel- 
ito in su Xaqueta*' (Ah Dolores, Manuel is 
mighty fine in his jacket.) The little damsel 
blushed and lauglied, and ran into the house. 

Days elapsed without tidings from Manuel, 
though he had promised to write. The heart 
of Dolores began to misgive her. Had anything 
happened to him on the road ' Had he failed 
in his examination ? A circumstance occurred 
in her little household to add to her uneasiness 
and till her mind with foreboding. It was almost 
equal to the escapado of her pigeon. Her tor- 



472 TIO POLO. 

toise-shell cat eloped at night and clambered to 
the tiled roof of the Alhambra. In the dead of the 
ni_2:ht. there was a fearful caterwauling ; some 
grimalkin was uncivil to her ; then there was a 
scramble ; then a clapper-clawing ; then both 
parties rolled oflP the i-oof and tumbled from \ 
great height among the trees on the hill-side. 
Nothing more was seen or heard of the fugitive, 
and poor Dolores considered it but the prelude to 
greater calamities. 

At the end of ten days, however, Manuel re- 
turned in triumph, duly' authorized to kill or 
cure ; and all Dolores' cares were over. There 
was a general gathering in the evening of the 
humble friends and hangers-on of Dame Antonio 
to congratulate her and to pay their respects to 
el Senor Medico, who, perad venture, at some fu- 
ture day, might have all their lives in his hands. 
One of the most impoitant of these guests was 
old Tio Polo ; and 1 gladly seized the occasion to 
prosecute my acquaintance with him. " Oh 
Senor," cried Dolores, " you who are so eager to 
learn all the old histories of the Alhambra, Tio 
Polo knows more about them than any one else 
about the place. More than Mateo Ximenes and 
his whole family put together." Vaya — Vaya — • 
Tio Polo, tell tlie Senor all those stories you told 
us one evening, about enchanted Moors, and the 
haunted bridge over the Darro, and the old stone 
pomegranates, tiiat have been there since the days 
of King Ciiico. 

It was some time before the old invalid could 
be brouiiht into a narrative vein. He shook his 



TIO ^ULO. 



473 



head — they were all idle tales ; not worthy of 
being told to a cavallero like myself. It was 
only by telling some stories of the kind myself 
I at last got him to open his budget. It was a 
whimsical farrago, partly made up of what ho 
had heard in the Alhainbra, partly of what he 
had read in Fadre Feyjoo. I will endeavor to 
gi\o the reader the substance of it, but I will 
not promise to give it in the very words of Tio 
Folo. 




THE LEGEND OF THE 
SOLDIER. 



ENCHANTED 




VERYBODY has heard of the Cave of 

St. Cyprian at Sahimanca, where in old 
times judicial astronomy, necromancy, 
chiromancy, and other dark and damnable arts 
were secretly taught by an ancient saci'istan ; or, 
as some will have it, by tlie devil himself, in that 
disguise. The cave has long been shut up and 
the xary site of it forgotten ; though, according 
to tradition, the entrance was somewhere about 
where the stone cross stands in the small square 
of the seminary of Carvajal ; and this tradition 
appears in some degree corroborated by the cir- 
cumstances of the fl)llowing story. 

There was at one time a student of Sala- 
manca, Don Vicente by name, of that merry but 
mendicant class, who set out on the road to learn- 
ing without a penny in pouch for the journey, 
and who, during college vacations, beg from 
town to town and village to village to raise funds 
to enable tiiem to pursue their studies througii 
the ensuing term. Pie was now about to sei 
forth on his wanderings ; and being somewhat 
musical, slung on his back a guitar with \\hich 



A MEXDICANT STUDENT. Alb 

to amnse the villafjers, and pay for a meal or a 
night's lodging.-. 

As he passed by the stone cross in the semi- 
nary square, he pulled off' his hat and made a 
Bhort invocation to St. Cyprian, for good luck ; 
when casting his eyes upon the earth, he per- 
ceived something glitter at the foot of the cross, 
On picking it up, it proved to be a seal-ring of 
mixed metal, in which gold and silver appealed 
to be blended. The seal bore as a device two 
triangles crossing each other, so as to form a 
star. This device is said to be a cabalistic sign, 
invented by king Solomon the Wise, and of 
mighty power in all cases of enchantment ; but 
the honest student, bein": neither sair^e nor con- 
jurer, knew nothing of the matter. He took 
the ring as a present from St. Cyprian in reward 
of his prayer ; slipped it on his finger, made a 
bow to the cross, and strumming his guitar, set 
off merrily on his wandering. 

The life of a mendicant student in Spain is 
not the most miserable in the world ; especially 
if he has any talent at making himself agreeable. 
He rambles at lai-ge from village to village, and 
city to city, wherever curiosity or caprice may 
conduct him. The country curates, who, for the 
most part, have been mendicant students in their 
time, give him shelter for the night, and a com- 
fortable meal, and often enrich him with several 
quartos, or halfpence in the morning. As he 
presents himself from door to door in the streets 
of the cities, he meets with no harsh rebuff, nc 
chilling contempt, for tiiere is no disgi-ace attend 



476 MUSICAL VAGABONDIZING. 

ing his mendicity, many of the most learned men 
in Spain having commenced their career in this 
manner ; but if, like the student in question, he 
is a good-looking varlet and a merry companion ; 
and, above all, if he can play the guitar, he is 
sure of a hearty welcome among the peasants, 
and smiles and favors from their wives ai.J 
daughters. 

In this way, then, did our ragged and musical 
son of learning make his way over half the king- 
dom ; with the fixed determination to visit the 
famous city of Granada before his return. Some- 
times he was gathered for the night into the fold 
of some village pastor ; sometimes he was shel- 
tered under the humble but hospitable roof of 
the peasant. Seated at the cottage-door with his 
guitar, he delighted the simple folk with his dit- 
ties ; or striking up a fandango or bolero, set the 
brown country lads and lasses dancing in the mel- 
low twilight. In the morning he departed with 
kind words from host and hostess, and kind looks 
and, peradventure, a squeeze of the hand from 
the daughter. 

At length he arrived at the great object of his 
musical vagabondizing, the far-famed city of 
Granada, and hailed with wonder and delight its 
Moorish towers, its lovely vega, and its snowy 
mountains glistening through a summer atmos- 
phere. It is needless to say with what eager 
curiosity he entered its gates and wandered 
through its streets, and gazed upon its oriental 
monuments. Every female face peering througli 
a window or beaming from a balcony was to hiic 



THE PADKE. 477 

B Zorayda or a Zellnda, nor could lie meet a 
stately dame on the Alameda but he was read}» 
to fancy her a Moorish princess, and to spread 
his student's I'obe beneath her ^aeX. 

His musical talent, his happy humor, his youth 
and his good looks, won him a universal welcome 
in spite of his ragged robes, and for several days 
he led a gay life in the old Moorish capital and 
its enrirons. One of his occasional haunts was 
the fountain of Avellanos, in the valley of Darro. 
It is one of the popular resorts of Granada, and 
has been so since the days of the Moors ; and 
here the student had an opportunity of pursuing 
his studies of female beauty ; a branch of study 
to which he was a little prone. 

Here he would take his seat with his guitar, 
improvise love-ditties to admiring groups of ma- 
jos and majas, or prompt with his music the ever- 
ready dance. He was thus engaged one evening 
when he beheld a padre of the church advancing, 
at whose approach every one touched the liat. 
He was evidently a man of consequence ; he cer- 
tainly was a mirror of good if not of holy liv- 
ing ; robust and rosy-faced, and breathing at 
every pore with the warmth of the weather and 
the exercise of the walk. As he passed along 
he would every now and then draw a maiavedi 
out of his pocket and bestow it on a beggar, with 
an air of signal beneficence. " Ah, the blessed 
father ! " would be the cry ; " long life to him, 
nnd may he soon be a bishop ! " 

To aid his steps in ascending the hill he leaned 
gently now and then on the arm of a handmaid. 



478 THE PET-LAMB. 

evidently the pet-himb of this kindest of pastors. 
Ah, snch a damsel ! Andahis from liead to foot ; 
from the rose in her hair, to tlie fairy shoe and 
lacework stocking ; Andalus in every movement ; 
in every undulation of the body : — ripe, melt- 
ing Andalus ! — But then so modest ! — so shy! 
— ever, with downcast eyes, listening to the 
words of the padre; or, if by chance she let 
flash a side glance, it was suddenly checked and 
her eyes once more cast to the ground. 

The good padre looked benignantly on the 
company about the fountain, and took his seat 
with some empha.^is on a stone bench, while the 
handmaid hastened to bi'ing him a glass of spark- 
ling Avater, He sipped it deliberately and with a 
relish, tempering it with one of tliose spongy 
pieces of frosted eggs and sugar so dear to Span- 
ish epicures, and on returning the glass to the 
hand of the damsel pinched her cheek with infinite 
loving-kindness. 

»" Ah, tlie good pastor ! " whispered the stu- 
dent to himself; " what a happiness would it be 
to be gathered into his fold with such a pet-lamb 
for a companion ! " 

But no such good fjire was likely to befall him. 
In vain he essayed those powers of pleasing 
which he had found so irresistible with country 
cui-ates and country lasses. Never had he touched 
his guitar with such skill ; never had he poured 
fortii more soul-moving ditties, but he had no 
longer a country curate or country hiss to deal 
with. The worthy pi-iest evidently did not rel- 
ish music, and the modest damsel never raised 



A MODEL PASTOR. 479 

":ier eyes from the f^rouiul. They remained but 
«j sliort time at tlie fountain ; the "ood padre hast« 
enetl their return to Granada. Tlie damsel prave 
the student one shy ghmce in retii-ing ; but it 
phi' ked tlie heail out of his bosom! 

He inquired about tliem after they had gone. 
Padre Tomas was one of the saints of Granada, 
a model of regularity ; punctual in his hour of 
rising; his hour of taking a paseo for an appe- 
tite ; his hours of eating ; his hour of taking his 
siesta ; his hour of playing his game of tresillo, 
of an evening, with some of the dames of the 
Cathedral circle ; his hour of supping, and his 
hour of retiring to rest, to gather fresh strength 
for another day's round of similar duties. He 
had an easy sleek mule for his I'idiiig ; a matronly 
housekeeper skilled in preparing tit-bits for his 
table ; and the pet-lamb, to smooth his pillow at 
night and bring him his chocolate in the morn- 
ing. 

Adieu now to the gay, thoughtless life of the 
student ; the side-glance of a bright eye had been 
the undoing of him. Day and night he could 
not get the image of this most modest damstd out 
of his mind. He sought the mansion of the pa- 
dre. Alas ! it was above the class of houses ac- 
cessible to a strolling student like himself The 
worthy padre had no sympathy with him ; he 
had never been Estudiante sopista, obliged to sing 
for his supper. He blockaded the house by day, 
catching a glance of the danxsel now and then as 
she appeared at a casement ; but these glances 
only fed his ihime witliout encouraging his hope. 



180 THE BRIDGE OF THE POMEGRANATES. 

He serenaded her balcony at night, and at one 
time was flattered by the appearance of some- 
thing white at a window. Ahis, it was only the 
night-cap of the padre. 

Never was lover more devoted ; never damsel 
more shy : the poor student was reduced to de- 
spair. At length arrived the eve of St. John, 
when the lower classes of Granada swarm into 
the country, dance away the afternoon, and pass 
midsummer's night on the banks of the Darro 
and the Xenil. Happy are they who on this 
eventful night can wash their faces in those 
waters just as the Cathedral bell tells midniglit ; 
for at that precise moment they have a beautify- 
ing power. The student, having nothing to do, 
suffered himself to be carried away by the holi- 
day-seeking throng until he found himself in tlie 
narrow valley of the Darro. below the lofty hill 
and ruddy towers of the Alhambra. The dry 
bed of the river ; the rocks which border it ; the 
terraced gardens which overhang it were alive 
with variegated groups, dancing under the vines 
and fig-trees to the sound of the guitar and cas- 
tanets. 

The student remained for some time in doleful 
dumps, leaning against one of the huge misshapen 
stone pomegranates Avhich adorn tlie ends of the 
little bridge over the Darro. He cast a wistful 
glance upon the merry scene, where every cava- 
lier had ;bis dame ; or, to speak more appropri 
ately, every Jack his Jill ; sighed at his own soli- 
^^ry state, a victim to the black eye of the most 
unapp'.'oachable of damsels, and repined at his 



■iHt. ANTIQUE SEN Tin. 45 1 

ras.^od aar}», wliicli seemed to shut the gate of 
hope against hi in. 

1^/ degrees his attention was attracted to a 
neighbor equally solitary with himself. This 
was a tall soldier, of a stern aspect and grizzled 
beai'd, who seemed posted as a sentry at the oj)- 
posite pomegranate. His face was bronzed by 
time ; he was arrayed in ancient Spanish armor, 
with buckler and lance, and stood immovable as a 
statue. • What surprised the student was, that 
though thus strangely equipped, he was totally 
unnoticed by the passing throng, albeit that many 
almost brushed against him. 

'' This is a city of old time peculiarities," 
thought the student, " and doubtless this is one 
of them with wliich the inhabitants are too fa- 
miliar to be surprised." His own curiosity, how- 
ever, was awakened, and being of a social dis- 
position, he accosted the soldier. 

" A rare old suit of armor that which you 
wear, comrade. May I ask what corps you be- 
long to?" 

The soldier gasped out a reply from a pair of 
jaws which seemed to have rusted on their 
hinges. 

" The royal guard of Ferdinand and Isabella.** 

" Santa Maria ! Why, it is three centuries 
since that corps was in service." 

" And for three centuries have I been mount- 
ing guard. Now I trust my tour of duty draws 
to a close. Dost thou desire fortune ? " 

The student held up his tattered cloak in re- 

31 



4?^2 THE TOWER OF THE AQfTEDUCT. 

" I nnflerstand thee. If thon hast faitli and 
ooiii'age, tbllow me, and thy fortune is made." 

" Softly, comrade, to follow thee would require 
small courage in one who has nothing to lose but 
life and an old guitar, neither of much value ; 
but my faith is of a different matter, and not ta 
be put in temptation. If it be^ny criminal art 
by which I am to mend my fortune, think not my 
rasired cloak will make me undertake it." 

The soldier turned on him a look of high 
displeasure. " My sword," said he, " has never 
been drawn but in the cause of the faith and the 
throne. T am a Cristiano viejo ; trust in me and 
fear no evil." 

The student followed him wondering. He ob- 
served that no one heeded their conversation, and 
that the soldier made his way through the vari- 
ous groups of idlers unnoticed, as if invisible. 

Crossing the bridge, the soldier led the way by 
a narrow and steep path past a Moorish mill and 
aqueduct, and up the ravine which separates the 
domains of the Generalife from those of the Al- 
hambra. The last ray of the sun shone upon 
the red battlements of the latter, which beetled 
far above ; and the convent-bells were proclaim- 
inof the festival of the ensuin"; da v. The ravine 
was overshadowed by fig-trees, vines, and myr- 
tles, and the outer tosvers and walls of the for- 
tress. It was dark and lonely, and the twilight- 
loving bats began to flit about. At length the 
soldier halted at a remote and ruined to\Ver, ap- 
parently intended to guard a Moorish aqueduct. 
He struck the foundation with the but-end of his 



SPELL-BOUND. 483 

Bpear. A rnmblini^ sound was lieard, and the 
solid stones yawned apart, leaving an opening as 
wide as a door. 

" Enter in the name of the Holy Trinity,'* 
said the soldier, " and fear nothing." The stu- 
dent's heart quaked, but he made the sign of the 
cross, muttered his Ave Maria, and followed his 
mysterious guide into a deep vault cut out of the 
solid rock under the tower, and covered with Ara- 
bic inscriptions. The soldier pointed to a stone 
seat hewn along one side of the vault. " Be- 
hold," said he, " my couch for three hundred 
years." The bewildered student tried to force a 
joke. " By the blessed St. Anthony," said he, 
" but you must have slept soundly, considering 
the hardness of your coucli." 

" On the contrary, sleep has been a stranger to 
these eyes ; incessant watchfulness has been my 
doom. Listen to my lot. I was one of the 
royal guards of Ferdinand and Isabella ; but 
was taken prisoner by the jMoors in one of their 
sorties, and confined a captive in this tower. 
When preparations were made to surrender the 
fortress to the Christian sovereigns, I was pre- 
vailed upon by an Alfaqui, a Moorish priest, to 
aid him in secreting some of the treasures of 
Boabdil in this vault. I was justly punished for 
my fault. The Alfaqui was an African necro- 
mancer, and by his infernal arts cast a spell upon 
-ne — to guard his treasures. Something must 
have happened to him, for he never returned, 
and here have I remained ever since, buried 
alive. Years and years have rolled away ; earth- 



48 4 ISP i:l l-b o und. 

quakes have shaken this hill ; I have heard stoiie 
by stone of the tower above tumbling to the 
ground, in the natural operation of time ; but 
the spell-bound walls of this vault set both time 
and earthquakes at defiance. 

" Once every hundred years, on the' festival 
of St. John, the enchantment ceases to have 
thorough sway ; I am permitted to go forth and 
post myself upon the bridge of the Darro, where 
you met me, waiting until some one shall arrive 
who may have power to break this magic spell. 
I have hitherto mounted guard there in vain. 
I walk as in a cloud, concealed from mortal sight. 
You are the first to accost me for now three hun- 
dred years. I behold the reason. I see on 
your finger the seal-ring of Solomon the Wise, 
which is proof against all enchantment. With 
you it remains to deliver me from this awful 
dungeon, or to leave me to keep guard here for 
anotiier hundred years." 

The student listened to this tale in mute won- 
derment. He had heard many tales of treasures 
shut up under strong enchantment in the vaults 
of the Alhambra, but had treated them as fables. 
He now felt the value of the seal-ring, which 
had, in a manner, been given to him by St. Cy- 
prian. Still, though armed by so potent a talis- 
man, it was an awful thing to find himself tfde a- 
tete in such a place with an enchanted soldier, 
who, according to the laws of nature, ought to 
have been quietly in his grave for nearly three 
centuries. 

A personage of this kind, however, was quite 



THE IRON COFFER. \9,b 

out of the ordinary run, and not to be trifled 
with, and he assured him he might rely upon his 
friendship and good will to do everything in 'lis 
power for his deliverance. 

" I trust to a motive more powerful than 
friendship," said the soldier. 

He pointed to a ponderous iron coffer, secuied 
by locks inscribed with Arabic characters. " That 
coffer," said he, " contains countless treasure in 
gold and jewels and precious stones. Break the 
magic spell by which I am enthralled, and one 
half of this treasure shall be thine." 

" But how am I to do it ? " 

" The aid of a Christian priest and a Chris- 
tian maid is necessary. The priest to exorcise 
the powers of darkness ; the damsel to touch 
this chest with the seal of Solomon. This must 
be done at night. But have a care. This is 
solemn work, and not to be effected by the car- 
nal-minded. The priest must be a Cristiano 
viejo, a model of sanctity ; and must mortify the 
flesh before he comes here, by a rigorous fast of 
four-and-twenty hours : and as to the maiden, she 
must be above reproach, and pi'oof against temp- 
tation. Linorer not in finding such aid. In three 
days my furlough is at an end ; if not delivered 
before midnigiit of the third, I shall have to 
Tionnt guard for another century. 

" Fpar not," said the student, " I have in my 
eye the very priest and damsel you describe ; but 
aow am I to regain admission to this tov/er ? " 

" The seal of Solomon will open the way foJ 
thee." 



486 A SHADOWY EMBASSY. 

The student issued forth from the tower much 
more gayly than he had entered. The wall 
closed behind him, and remained solid as before. 

The next morning he repaired boldly to the 
mansion of the priest, no longer a poor strolling 
student, thrumming his way with a guitar; but 
nn ambassador from the shadowy world, with en- 
chanted treasures to bestow. No particulars are 
told of his negotiation, excepting that the zeal 
of the worthy priest was easily kindled at the 
idea of rescuing an old soldier of the faitli and 
a strong box of King Chico- from tlie very 
clutches of Satan ; and then what alms might be 
dispensed, what churches built, and how many 
poor relatives enriched with the Moorish treas- 
ure ! 

As to the immaculate handmaid, she was 
ready to lend her hand, which was all that was 
required, to the pious work ; and if a shy glance 
now and then might be believed, the ambassador 
began to find favor in her modest eyes. 

The greatest difficulty, however, was tlie fast 
to wfiich the good padre had to subject liimself. 
Twice he attempted it, and twice the flesh was 
too strong for the spirit. It was only on the 
third day that he was enabled to withstand the 
temptations of the cupboard ; but it was still a 
question wliether he would hold out until the 
spell was broken. 

At a late hour of the night the party groped 
their way up tlie ravine by the light of a lantern, 
and bearing a basket witli provisions for exorcis- 
ing the demon of luuiirer so soon as the other 
demons should be laid in the Red Sea. 



THE CHASTE SALUTE. 487 

The seal of Solomon opened their way into 
the tower. They found the soldier seated on the 
enchanted strong-box, awaiting their arrival. The 
exorcism was performed in due style. The dam- 
sel advancevl and touched the locks of the C(;frer 
with the seal of Solomon. The lid flew open ; 
and such treasures of gold and jewels and pre- 
cious stones as flaslie 1 upon the eye ! 

" Here 's cut and come again ! " cried the stu- 
dent, exultingly, as he proceeded to cram his 
pockets. 

" Fairly and softly," exclaimed the soldier. 
'•• Let us get the coffer out entire, and then di- 
vide." 

They accordingly went to work with might and 
main ; but it was a difficult task ; the chest was 
enormously heavy, and had been imbedded there 
for centuries. \Yhile they were thus employed 
tlie good dominie drew on one side and made a 
vigoi-ous onslaught on the basket, by way of ex- 
orcising the demon of hunger wiiich was raging 
ju his entrails. In a little while a fat capon was 
devoured, and washed down by a deep potation 
of Val de peiias ; and, by way of grace after meat, 
he gave a kind-hearted kiss to the pet-lamb who 
waited on him. It was quietly done in a corner, 
but the tell-tale walls babbled it forth as if in 
triumph. Never was chaste salute more awiiil 
in its effects. At the sound the soldier gave a 
great cry of despair ; the coffer, which was half 
raised, fell back in its place and was locked once 
more. Pi-iest, student, and damsel, found them- 
»elve^ outside of the tower, the wall of which 



488 THE SOLDfER'S DOOM. 

closed wdth a tlmndei-ing jai-. Alas ! the good 
Padre had broken his fast too soon ! 

When recovered from his surprise, the student 
would have reentered the tower, but learnt to liis 
dismay that the damsel, in her fright, had let fall 
the seal of Solomon ; it remained within the vault. 

In a word, the cathedral-bell tolled midnight ; 
the spell was renewed ; the soldier was doomevl 
to mount guard for another hundred years, and 
there he and the treasure remain to this day — 
and all because tiie kind-hearted Padre kissed his 
handmaid. " Ah father ! father ! " said the stu- 
dent, shaking his head ruefully, as they returned 
down the ravine, " 1 fear there was less of the 
saint than the sinner in that kiss ! " 

Thus ends the legend as far as it has been au- 
thenticated. There is a tradition, however, that 
the student had brought off treasure enough in 
his pocket to set him up in the world ; that he 
prospered in his affairs, that the worthy Padre 
gave him the pet-lamb in marriage, by way of 
amends for the blunder in the vault : that the 
immaculate damsel proved a pattern for wives 
as she had been for handmaids, and bore her hus- 
band a numerous progeny ; that the first was a 
wonder ; it was born seven months after her mar- 
riage, and though a seven-months' boy, was the 
sturdiest of the flock. The rest were all born 
in the ordinary course of time. 

The story of the enchanted soldier remains 
one of the popular traditions of Granada, though 
told in a variety of ways ; the common people 



THE CAVE OF SAN CYPRIAN. 489 

aflirm that he still mounts guard on mid-summer 
eve, beside the gigantic stone pomegranate on 
the Bridge of the Darro ; but remains invisible 
excepting to such lucky mortal as may possess 
the seal of Solomon. 

NOTES TO THE ENCHANTED SOLDIER. 

Among the ancient superstitions of Spain, were those of 
the existence of profound caverns in which the magic arts 
were taught, either by the devil in person, or some sage de- 
voted to his service. One of the most famous of these caves 
was at Salamanca. Don Francisco de I'orreblanca makes 
mention of it in the first book of his work on magic, C. 2, 
No. 4. The devil was said to play the part of Oracle there; 
giving replies to those who repaired thither to propound fate- 
ful questions, as in the celebrated cave of Trophonius. Don 
Francisco, though he records this story, does not put faith in 
it: he gives it however as certain, that a ?^acristan, named 
Clement Pdtosi, taught secretly the magic arts in that cave. 
I'adre Feyjoo, who inquired into the matter, reports it as a 
vulgar belief, that the devil himself taught those arts there; 
admitting only seven disciples at a time, one of whom, to be 
determined by lot, was to be devoted to him body and soul 
forever. Among one of these sets of students was a young 
man, son of the INIarquis de Yillena, on whom, after having 
accomplished his studies, the lot fell. He succeeded, how- 
ever, in cheating the devil, leaving him his shadow instead 
of his ho(\.y. 

Don Juan de Dios, Professor of Humanities in the Univer- 
sity, ir the early part of the last century, gives the following 
version of the story, extracted, as he says, from an ancient 
manuscript. It will be perceived he has marred the super- 
natural part of the tale, and ejected the devil from it alto- 
gether. 

.As to the fable of the Cave of San Cyprian, says he, all 
that we have been able to verify is, that where the stone cross 
Itands, in the small square or place called by the name of 
die Seminary of Carvajal, there was the parochial church 
?f San Cyj)rian. A descent of twenty steps led down to a 



490 THE CAVE OF SAN CYPRIAN. 

subterranean Sacristy, spacious and vaulted like a cave 
Here a Sacristan once taught magic, judicial astrolog}', ge- 
omancy, liA-droniancy, pyromancy, acromancy, chiromancy, 
necromancy, >.Vc. 

The extract goes on to state that seven students engaged 
at a time with the Sacristan, at a fixed stipend. Lots were 
cast among them which one of their number should pay for 
the whole, Avith the understanding that he on whom the lot 
fell, if he did not pay promptly, should be detained in a 
chamber of the Sacristy until the funds were forthcoming. 
This became thenceforth the usual practice. 

On one occasion the lot fell on Henry de Villena, son of the 
marquis of the same name. He having perceived that there 
had been trick and shutHing in the casting of the lot, and 
suspecting the Sacristan to be cognizant thereof, refused to 
pay. He was forthwith left in limbo. It so happened, that 
in a dark corner of the Sacristy was a huge jar or earthen 
reservoir for water, which was cracked and empty. In this 
the youth contrived to conceal himself The Sacristan re- 
turned at night with a servant, bringing lights and a supper. 
Unlocking the door, they found no one in the vault, and a 
book of magic lying open on the table. I hey retreated in 
dismay, leaving the door open, by which Villena made his 
escape. The story went about that through magic he had 
made himself invisible. — The reader has now both versions 
of the story, and may make his choice. I will onl\' observe 
that the sages of the Alhambra incline to the diabolical 
one. 

This Henry de Villena flourished in the tinw of Juan II., 
King of Castile, of whom he was uncle. He became famous 
for his knowledge of the Natural Sciences; and hence, in 
that ignorant age was stigmatized as a necromancer. Fer- 
nan Perez de (iuzman, in his account of distinguished men, 
gives him credit for great learning, but says he devoted him- 
self to the arts of divination, the interpretation of dreams, 
of signs, and portents. 

At the death of Villena, his library fell into the hands of 
the King who was warned that it contained books treating 
of magic, and not proper to be read. King Juan ordered 
that they should be transported in carts to the residence of a 
'evereud prelate to be examined. The prelate was less 



THE si: A J. OF SVLOMON. 49i 

learned than devout. Some ot' the books treated of mathe- 
matics, others of astronomy, with li,i,aires and diagrams, and 
planetary signs; others of chemistry or alchemy, with for- 
eign and mystic words. All these were necromancy in the 
eyes of the pious prelate, and the books were consigned to 
the liames, like the librarj' of Don Quixote. 

Thk Seal ok S(H.(^^rl)N. — The device consist? of tw ( 
equilateral triangles, interlaced so as to form a star, and sui' 
rounded by a circle According to Arab tradition, when the 
Most High gave Solomon the choic:; of blessings, and he 
chose wisdom, there came from heaven a ring, on which this 
device was engraven. This mystic talisman was the arca- 
num of his wisdom, felicity, and grandeur, by this he gov- 
erned and prospered. In consequence of a temporary lapse 
ft-om virtue he lost the ring in the sea, and was at once re- 
duced to tlie level of ordinary men. By penitence and pra^-er 
he made his peace with the Deity, was permitted to find his 
ring again in the belly of a fish, and thus recovered his celes- 
tial gifts. That he might not utterly lose them again, he com- 
municated to others the secret of the marvellous ring. 

This symbolical seal we are told was sacrilegiously used by 
the jNIahometan infidels; and before them by the Arabian 
idolaters, and before them by the Hebrews, for " diabolical en- 
terprises and abominable superstitions." Those who wish to 
be more thoroughly informed on tlie subject, will do well to 
consult the learned Father Athanasius Kirker"s treatise on the 
Cabala Sarractiiica. 

A word more to the curious reader. There are many per- 
sons in these skeptical tinu "^ v/^c atiect to deride everything 
connected with the occult sciences, or black art; who have no 
faith in the efficacy of conjurations, incantations, or divi- 
aations; and who stoutly contend that such things never had 
existence. To such determintd unbelievers the testnnony of 
past ages is as nothing; they require the evidence of their own 
senses, and deny that such arts and practices have prevailed 
ui days of yore. sim[»ly because they meet with no instance 
of them in the ]tresent day. They cannot perceive that, as 
the world became versed in the natural sciences, the super- 
aatural became superfluous and fell into disiese; and that the 



492 THE OCCULT SCIENCES. 

hardy inventions of art superseded the mysteries of magic 
Still, saj' the enlightened few, those mystic powers exist, 
though in a latent state, and untasked b\' the ingenuity of 
man. A talisman is still a talisman, possessing all its in- 
dwelling and awful properties; though it may have lain d:>T- 
mant for ages at the bottom of the sea, or in the dusty cab' 
inet of the antiquary. 

The signet of Solomon the \\ ise, for instance, is well known 
to have held potent control over genii, demons, and enchant- 
ments; now who will positively assert that the same mystic 
eignet, wherever it may exist, does not at the present moment 
possess the same marvellous virtues which distinguished it in 
the olden time? Let those who doubt repair to Salamanca, 
delve into the cave of San Cyprian, explore its hidden secret**, 
and decide. As to those who will not be at the pains of such 
investigation, let them substitute faith for incredulity, and rd- 
eeive with honest credence the foregoing legend. 



\ 






THE AUTHOR'S FAKEWELL TO GRANADA. 

JY serene and happy reign in the Alham- 
bra was suddenly broiiglit to a close by 
letters which reached me, while indulg- 
in oriental luxury in the cool hall of the 
baths, summoning me away from my Moslem ely- 
sium, to mingle once more in the bustle and busi- 
ness of the dusty world. How was I to encounter 
its toils and turmoils^ after such a life of repose 
and reverie ! How was I to endure its common- 
place, after the poetry of the Alharabra ! 

But little preparation was necessary for my 
departure. A two-wheeled vehicle, called a tar- 
tana, very much resembling a covered cart, was 
to be the travelling equipage of a young Eng- 
lishman and myself through Murcia, to Alicant 
and Valencia, on our way to France ; and a long- 
limbed varlet, who had been a contrabandista, 
and, for aught I knew, a robber, was to be our 
guide and guard. The preparations were soon 
made, but the departure was the difficulty. Day 
after day was it postponed ; day after day was 
spent in lingering about my favorite haunts, and 
day after day they appeared more delightful in 
ray eyes. 

The social and domestic little world also, in 
which I had been moving, had become singular- 
ly endeared to me : and the concern evinced by 



494 A nUXfBLE CORTEGE. 

them at my intended departure, convinced me 
that my kind feelings were re(3iprocated. Indeed, 
when at length the day arrived, I did not daro 
venture upon a leave-taking at tlie good dame 
Antonia's ; I saw the soft heart of little Dolores, 
at least, was brim full and ready for an overflow. 
So I bade a silent adieu to tlie palace and its in- 
mates, and descended into the city as if intending 
to return. There, however, the tartana and the 
guide were ready ; so, after taking a noonday's 
repast with my fellow-traveller at the Posada, I 
set out with him on our journey. 

Humble was the cortege and melancholy the 
departure of El Rev Chico the second ! Manuel, 
the nephew of Tia Antonia, Mateo, my officious 
but now disconsolate squire, and two or three old 
invalids of the Alhambra Avith whom I had grown 
into gossiping companionship, had come down to 
see me off; for it is one of the good old customs 
of Spain, to sally forth several miles to meet a 
coming friend, and to accompany him as far on 
his departure. Thus then we set out, our long- 
legged guard striding ahead, with his escopeta on 
his shoulder ; Manuel Find ]Mateo on each side 
of the tartana, and the jld invalids behind. 

At some little distance to tlie north of Gra- 
nada, the road gradually ascends the hills ; here 
I alighted and walked up slowly with Manuel, 
who took this occasion to confide to me the secret 
of his heart and of all those tender concerns be- 
tween himself and Dolores, with which I had 
oeen already informed by the aJl-knowing and all- 
revealing Mateo Ximenes. \\U doctor's diploma 
had prepared the way fur their union, and noth- 



sonnnwrrL PART/yas. 405 

ing more was Avanting l)nt tlie dispensation of 
the Pope, on account of their consanguiriity. 
Then, if he could get the post of Medico of the 
fortress, his happiness \A'ould be complete ! I' 
congratulated him on the judgment and good 
taste he had shown in liis choice of a helpmate ; 
invoked all possible felicity on their union, and 
trusted that the abundant affections of the kind- 
hearted little Dolores would in time have more 
stable objects to occupy them than recreant cats 
and truant pigeons. 

It was indeed a sorrowful parting when I took 
Xeave of these good people and saw them slowly 
descend!* the hills ; now and then turning round 
to wave me a last adieu. Manuel, it is true, had 
cheerful prospects to console him, but poor JVIateo 
seemed perfectly cast down. It was to him a 
grievous fall from the station of prime minister 
and hisioriograplier, to his old brown cloak and his 
starveling mystery of ribbon-weaving ; and the 
poor devil, notwithstanding his occasional offi- 
ciousness, had, somehow or other, acquired a 
stronger hold on my sympathies than I was aware 
of. It would have really been a consolation in 
parting, could I have anticipated the good foitune 
in store for him, and to which I had contributed ; 
for the importance I had appeared to give to his 
tales and gossip and local knowledge, and the fre- 
quent companionship in wiiich I had indulged 
him in the course of my strolls, had elevated his 
'dea of his own qualifications and opened a new 
career to him ; and the son of the Alhambra lias 
since become its regwlur and well-paid cicerone ; 
insomuch that I nm told he has never been 



406 THE LAST VIEW OF THE ALHAMBRa 

obliged to resume the ragged old brown cloak in 
which I first found him. 

Towards sunset I came to where the road 
wound into the mountains, and here I paused to 
take a last look at Granada. The hill on which 
T stood commanded a glorious view of the city, 
llie Vega, and the surrounding mountains. It 
was at an opposite point of the compass from La 
cuesta de las lagrimas (the hill of tears) noted 
for the " last sigh of the JNIoor." 1 now could 
realize something of the feelings of poor Boabdii 
when he bade adieu to the paradise he was leav- 
wig behind, and beheld before him a rugged and 
sterile road conducting him to exile. • 

The setting sun as usual shed a melancholy 
effulgence on the ruddy towers of the Alhambra. 
I could faintly discern the balconied window of 
the tower of Comares, where I had indulged in 
so many delightful reveries. The bosky groves 
and gardens about the city were richly gilded 
with the sunshine, the purple haze of a summei 
evening was gathering over the Vega ; every- 
thing was lovely, but tenderly and sadly so, to my 
parting gaze. 

" I will hasten from this prospect," thought I, 
" before the sun is set. I will carry away a rec- 
ollection of it clothed in all its beauty." 

With these thoughts I pui'sued my way among 
llie mountains. A little further and Granada, 
the Vega, and the Alhambra, were shut from my 
view ; and thus ended one of the pleasantest 
dreams of a life, which the reader perhaps may 
think ha:; been but too much made up of dreams, 

THE END. 



